


Built For This

by carolnegate



Category: The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: Action, Alternate Character Interpretation, Anger Management, Backstory, Despite all the humorous tags, Excessive Abuse to Chairs, Gen, I have a very particular set of skills, Lifelong Bonding, Micro Management, No Shipping Focus, Psychological Drama, Relentless Contempt, Slightly Darker than Canon, Time Management, Why do I keep writing stories like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:50:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1313779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolnegate/pseuds/carolnegate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good Cop and Bad Cop were stuck with each other, trying their hardest to balance out their other side's flaws. As both of them worked tirelessly to hunt down the Master Builders, they were each equally convinced of one thing - despite all that had happened, despite their endless power struggle, and despite all the tragedy they left behind, they had been built for this job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Octan Tower

**Author's Note:**

> _Like a lot of fans of the movie, I find myself drawn to the characters of Good Cop and Bad Cop. Unfortunately, not many stories seem too interested in exploring the relationship between them. They are literally two personalities who have fought for control of the same body their entire life. That kind of situation has the potential for both relentless contempt and lifelong bonding. The nature of their employment to Lord Business also intrigues me, so I'll be exploring a little bit of that as well._
> 
>  
> 
> _My update rate for this story is going to be quite a bit slower than my usual speed. I'm hoping to put up a new chapter every Wednesday, but I make no promises. Hence, I preemptively apologize for the way this chapter ends._
> 
>  
> 
> _You might have seen this story on another fanfiction database. No, I am not plagiarizing. I am that same author, and I am simply hoping to spread my story to a wider audience. Hopefully, I will also get more feedback I can use to improve my writing._

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

The clock precisely marked off the passing seconds, adding sound to what would have otherwise been silence. A small army of plastic chairs arranged in neat, orderly lines filled the room. Featureless white walls brought the whole effect together, proving that even President Business's waiting rooms were organized to a fault. There were only two entrances, two doors facing each other from opposing walls. One led to the main hallway, where any occupants would have entered from. The other door presumably led to President Business's interviewing room.

Once, the room had been filled with people, just enough bodies to fill up all the chairs. Now, a single man sat quietly in the corner, wondering to himself where everyone had gone. He supposed it wasn't necessarily a bad thing that he was being interviewed last, but he was a little worried about those who had gone in before him. After all, while dozens of people had entered the interviewing room, he couldn't remember anyone coming out of it.

_Pansies. They must have been too weak for the job._

The man swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew his other side was only trying to help matters, but honestly, nothing his Bad side said ever made him feel any better.

_I wasn't trying to give you a touchy-feely boost to your self-esteem. That's not how I operate._

He hoped dearly that his Bad side would keep quiet during the interview. It would be difficult enough trying to talk in complete sentences in such a stressful situation, and he didn't need a voice in the back of his head criticizing every word that came out of his mouth. Still, if he was the last applicant left, didn't that mean he was practically a shoe-in for the job?

_You're not going to get the job. Both of us know it._

He pressed a hand to his face, sighing away some of his stress. After a while, he mumbled, "Please, I need to do well at this interview. You want this job as much as I do, don't you?"

_Yes, which is why you should let me talk to him._

He shook his head. "No, it's my turn. I don't take control during your turn. I can do this, just as long as I try hard enough."

_Hmph._

At that point, a cheerful, feminine, and suspiciously robotic voice chimed in over the intercom. "Good Cop, President Business is ready to see you now."

He blew a long sigh out of his lips and got up out of his chair. Well, this was what it all came down to. The rest of his career, and perhaps the rest of his life, depended on what happened over the next few minutes. He took a moment to adjust his clothes, fixing the collar of the beige police uniform his Pa had let him borrow. He also made sure his gray helmet was still securely buckled on. When he was sure he looked the best he could be, he made his way to the appropriate door.

On the other side of the door was a sight he had never in his wild dreams expected to see. He'd anticipated a small, professional-looking room with perhaps a desk and a couple of chairs. Here, there was still an air of professionalism, but the dramatic, over-the-top flair easily overshadowed it. Red and black were everywhere, radiating the power and sophistication of the man who owned the place. A high ceiling vaulted over the long, symmetrical hallway. The hall was capped on one end by a pair of enormous, imposing doors, and the other end sported a large window that granted a very nice view of the afternoon sky. A few smaller doors stood along the walls, including the one he had just entered from, but they were so insignificant compared to the scale of the room that they seemed almost like an afterthought.

Chairs and desks were obviously too mundane for a room like this. Instead, about half a dozen pillars lined the walls, each supporting an art piece of some sort that President Business had no doubt collected with his wealth. Good Cop had a hard time classifying those objects as "art", however. They were strange and unnatural shapes, almost as if they weren't made out of bricks at all.

He was too dazzled by the sight of it all to notice the man approaching him. His attention was easily redirected, though, when the approaching man eventually spoke. "Last one, I see. It's been a disappointing day. Maybe you can tell me some good news?"

Good Cop's head whipped to the voice so quickly that it almost spun all the way around. "President Business!" He didn't have the mental capacity to say much else. It was one thing to find himself in the same room as the President. It was another thing entirely when the President wore a threatening ensemble of enormous, stilt-like boots, a billowing red cape that was far too long for anyone to wear without the boots, and a helmet that looked capable of puncturing a passenger jet.

"That's Lord Business, to you," the President corrected him.

Good Cop couldn't help but take a nervous gulp. He almost took a step backwards, but he suspected that action would only put President-Lord Business in a worse mood than he already was.

_If you mess this up for us, I swear I will find a way to reach around and punch your lights out._

Ever-supportive, his Bad side was.

Fortunately, Business didn't seem too upset by the nervous behavior. He even let out an amused chuckle, laughing the whole thing off. "Don't act so terrified. You're doing great. A handful of other guys tried to make a run for it as soon as they saw me. It didn't save them, of course, and you're a lot smarter than that, am I right?"

Good Cop tried to imitate Business's chuckle with limited success. "I'm just a little surprised is all," he spoke up. "I thought one of your secretaries would be the one to interview me."

"Oh, I wouldn't trust these interviews with anyone else," Business remarked. "I want to hand-pick my police chief. It's a very important job, and I can't afford to let anyone mess it up."

Good Cop's eyes grew wide. Did he hear that correctly?

_Police chief? Yes, you heard him right. If you mess this up now, I swear I will press your face to a stovetop as soon as six o'clock rolls around._

"The honest-to-goodness chief of police, sir?" Good Cop spoke up. "I thought I was only applying for a regular officer position. To be in charge of your entire force…aw, it's such an honor!"

"Really? You're one of the only people to think so," Business said, beginning to pace around Good Cop with slow, thundering steps. "It's a huge responsibility. The fate of Octan would rest on your shoulders from time to time. You might actually, ah…" He trailed off for a moment. "Crack. Under the pressure." He gave a sharp twist with his wrist to demonstrate.

"Oh, no sir, it might be a lot of responsibility, but it also has a lot of opportunities," Good Cop miraculously replied without missing a beat. "If I was only a regular police officer, then I would only be able to help out a single neighborhood. As the chief, I can help all of Bricksburg, maybe even the entire world."

Business suddenly stopped pacing, his heavy boots falling still. "Well, yes, but with every opportunity you get to help the greater good, you also get the opportunity to fail me. In a career that's this important, failure is not an option. Not an option you'd be able to take twice, anyways." He turned towards Good Cop and took one more step, his boot crunching down uncomfortably close to unsuspecting applicant. "You do understand that, right?"

"I understand, but I don't think you have to worry," Good Cop began, carefully side-stepping around the towering boot to give himself some breathing space. "I'm confident that I'll succeed at whatever job you give me, sir. I come from a long line of police officers, and I just graduated Octan University with a degree in Criminal Justice. I was near the top of my class, too."

The surprise from meeting Business in person had worn off at that point, but Good Cop still found himself fighting not to squirm under the President's calculating stare. After a few seconds, Business's one bushy eyebrow lifted in disbelief. "How are you still so enthusiastic to have this job?" He gestured a bit with his arms, as if trying to find a way to make his point without words. "Am I not being threatening enough? Am I being a little too subtle for you?"

Good Cop had naturally picked up on the threatening angle of this conversation some time ago, but he'd be darned if he let anything break his smile this late in the game. If he could prove to Business that he could keep a level head under this much pressure, then he'd get the job for sure. "I understand exactly what you're getting at, sir."

"No, I don't think you get it at all," Business answered. He paused to think for a moment before raising a hand to gesture to one far end of the hall. "You see that window over there?"

"Of course," was Good Cop's cheerful reply.

"Tell me what's so strange about it."

Good Cop leaned forward a bit and squinted, trying to pick out the detail that Business was looking for. It didn't take him long to find it. "You've left one of the bottom panes open."

He made to turn around and face Business again, but before he could so much as move, one of the enormous boots crashed into his back and pinned him to the floor. As his face pressed against the cold, plastic bricks, he desperately fought the urge to struggle. It would only make things worse, after all.

"Oh, I didn't just leave that window pane open," Lord Business corrected. "It broke off and fell out of the building when I tried to throw one of the applicants through it. That was the first applicant I interviewed, actually."

"Really?" Good Cop spoke, having a few issues breathing under the weight of the boot. "He must have done something big to get on your bad side like that."

Lord Business shrugged. "Eh, not really. He was a bit of a snob – a big ego and not very dependable. When I told him he failed the interview, he got snippy with me. Me, Lord Business! He was lucky just to get the chance to see the inside of my office, but then he had to be ungrateful about it. So, I gave him an all-expenses-paid trip to the Infinite Abyss of Nothingness."

That was right – President Business's office tower pressed right up against the edge of the city limits. Normally, the walls surrounding the city prevented anyone from accidentally wandering off the edge of the world and plummeting into the Abyss. However, throwing someone off the top of this monstrous skyscraper could easily circumvent that hurdle.

Business shifted the weight his weight slightly off of Good Cop before continuing. "The rest of the applicants worked out better, though. Instead of breaking the window all over again, I had my guards throw them through the hole."

"That's...very motivating, really," Good Cop wheezed.

"See, now you're starting to get it," Business spoke, lifting the boot off of his prisoner as he did so. "People never just 'do' what I tell them to do. I have to threaten them if I want anything to happen. But, if I threaten them and they still don't do a perfect job, I have to follow through and punish them so everyone else will still take me seriously."

Good Cop pushed himself off the floor and gave a small cough. "That's a very eye-opening look at politics," he commented. "But, that can't be all there is to it."

_Careful._

"Oh really?" Business asked with narrowed eyes.

"You can't be threatening all the time. Sometimes, you need to be friendly," Good Cop said simply. "You're very good at being friendly, sir. Year after year, Octan keeps getting more and more popular, but it's not because your customers are afraid of you. It's because they trust you enough to buy your products and follow your instruction booklets."

Business put a hand to his chin, looking into the distance with thought. "You know, it would be a change of pace to have a henchman who knows how to keep the citizens happy." His expression hardened. "Though, you do understand that I'm hiring you to go after criminals, not make people feel better about themselves?"

Good Cop allowed a nervous grin to appear on his face. "It's a good thing there isn't a law that prevents me from doing both at the same time, then."

Lord Business did not respond right away. As he stared at Good Cop, his face slowly morphed from threatening criticism to something more akin to sneering disgust. It was as if Business had discovered that the applicant standing before him had suddenly transformed into a rather large cockroach.

_You blew it._

Good Cop understood that he had just made a very costly mistake. However, he had a difficult time figuring out exactly what that mistake was. He'd clearly said something wrong, but-

_You just implied that you care just as much about helping people as arresting criminals, which means you might slack on your police chief duties if it meant assisting someone that Lord Business clearly doesn't care about._

He would never do that! But, now that he thought back on his actual choice of words, he did seem to paint that picture for his President. "O-of course, the criminal arrest comes first," he said quickly, praying that he hadn't waited too long before saying it. As he had just been explaining, trust was a powerful thing, and he might have just lost Business's.

Lord Business resumed pacing around Good Cop, his eyes trained on the applicant in a powerful glare. "Tell me, Good Cop: do you really think 'police chief' the right kind of job for someone like you?"

"I honestly do," was the response. "I really feel like I was built for this job."

_I was built for this job, you mean. You were obviously built for something else._

This was one of those times when Good Cop desperately wished that his Bad side would just stay quiet. All he needed was five minutes without a voice in his head tripping him up and killing his confidence at the worst possible times.

_If I was the one talking to him, then we'd have Business handing us the keys to our new office by now._

He was almost too distracted by his Bad side to notice Lord Business scoffing. "You, of all people, think you were built for this job?" The man's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Alright, then. Hypothetical scenario time. You find a bank being robbed, but just as you're about to go in, you get a call from me telling you to report back to the station immediately. What do you do?"

Good Cop crossed his hands behind his back unsurely. "Well…"

_Report back immediately. This isn't rocket science._

Good Cop spoke softly, "If…you were on the phone with me, couldn't I ask you if reporting back this one time was important enough to let the bank get robbed?"

Business momentarily froze mid-stride at this unorthodox answer. When he resumed pacing, his footfalls now came a little faster. "Okay, good," he said. "But, how about this: a criminal has holed himself up in an abandoned building. You have enough robo-cops under your command to cover all the exits, but not enough to search the building. How do you go about apprehending him?"

_Threaten to set the building on fire if he doesn't come out with his hands in the air._

After a moment of rocking back on his heels, he answered, "First, I'd start by promising not to arrest him if he comes along quietly, then-"

Lord Business groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "Seriously, are you that stupid?"

Good Cop, for the first time since entering the room, gave a tiny frown. "Well, I wouldn't actually follow through with it once he-"

"New scenario!" Business announced. "A Master Builder shows up on your doorstep, injured. All they want is somewhere to spend the night, and they say they'll be gone as soon as you leave for work. What do you do?"

His frown stayed firmly rooted on his face as he tried to puzzle out the answer. He hadn't learned much about Master Builders at the University, but he did know that they could supposedly build anything they wanted using bricks from the surrounding area. They were extremely dangerous, and many of them had participated in criminal activity. Lord Business's policy concerning them was likely, "get rid of them all as soon as possible".

_The answer is obvious. If they're dumb enough to show up on our doorstep of all places, then we're going to arrest them._

Good Cop's eyes suddenly lit up with an inspiration that wasn't linked to his Bad side's plan in any way. It was an incredibly good plan, one that Business wouldn't be able to turn down. Sure, it was a little risky, but if he pulled it off right, it could result in the capture of dozens of Master Builders. "First, I would invite them into my house-"

"And that's all I needed to hear," the towering President interrupted. His heavy steps fell silent, and Good Cop couldn't help but notice that the man was now, strangely, about ten bricks away, a little too far for casual conversation. The President raised a hand to his face to amplify a shout. "Guards!"

Good Cop nearly jumped out of his skin when a loud bang sounded behind him. He whirled around to see that the ominous pair of doors at the other end of the hall had been thrown open. At least a dozen cops rushed through the doorway, but these were clearly no regular cops. Though they wore the appropriate uniform, their skin was made of metal, and each one's movements fell perfectly in sync with the cop next to them. As if a robotic police brigade alone wasn't enough to terrify him, at least half of them also carried a blaster in their outstretched hand, training it on their obvious target.

_I don't know what to say to you anymore. We had only one shot at this, and you blew it to bricks. If I make it out of this alive, I will personally shove your side of the head into a vat of acid until your face melts clean off._

Good Cop's hands went into the air faster than he believed was possible. He knew this act of surrender wouldn't save him, of course, though it might delay the inevitable. His eyes tried to follow the robots as they approached, but that became very difficult once they completely surrounded him. They kept a bit of distance, though, probably unsure of exactly what their boss wanted from them. Still, they were close enough for Good Cop to see his own reflection in a few of their metallic faces.

Lord Business let out a chuckle. He wasn't disappointed or disgusted anymore. No, he was downright amused, a smug grin taking over the lower half of his face. Good Cop briefly hoped that this man would show mercy on him, but that idea was too ridiculous to consider for more than a millisecond.

"Put him with the others," Business commanded with dark joy.

_You cannot possibly understand how furious I am with you. Even when we're about to die, you won't give me a fighting chance to save us both!_

Good Cop knew he stood no chance at fighting off the horde of robots surging towards him. That being said, he also knew of someone else who had a much better chance than he did. He could only hope that this someone wouldn't be too angry with him after all of this was over.

He released the breath he'd been holding, took one last look at the incoming robo-cops, and let his Bad side assume complete control.


	2. Welcome to the Force

_Crink._

Bad Cop's hand whipped out, caught the closest robot by the wrist, and snapped its arm clean off before it could react. The robo-cop only had a moment to glance down at the empty socket before Bad Cop's other hand swung up and punched its head clear off its shoulders.

He spun around, swinging the detached arm like a club, and had the luck of connecting with another robot's neck, taking off its head as well. The two decapitated robots both collapsed like twin sacks of potatoes. Sadly, neither robot had been carrying a blaster, so he doubted the rest of the robo-cops would go down this easily.

He fell into a crouch, avoiding the first few blaster shots and making himself a smaller target. The robots were starting to crowd close to each other, which could spell disaster for him, but it also gave him a perfect opportunity. He stuck out a foot and swung it around, tripping up many of the robots and ruining several of their shots.

One robot in particular fell over completely, landing next to Bad Cop with a clatter. He prepared to slam his improvised club into its head, but something about this precise robot caught his eye – the blaster in its hand. Without hesitating for even a moment, he stomped on the robo-cop's wrist and yanked its hand out of its slot, gun and all.

He shook the detached robotic hand off of the blaster, but before he could clamp his own hand around the trigger, a pair of robots grabbed his shoulders and yanked him backwards. Refusing to give them the time to pin his arms, he swung his blaster over his left shoulder and brained one of his captors. When that robot temporarily loosened its grip, he wrenched himself free, spun around, and swung his two impromptu clubs into the other robot's face, taking its head off in the process.

The rest of robots, now realizing how much of a fight their target could put up, began to back up and look for a better approach. Unfortunately, this was just the moment he needed to wrap his right hand around the handle of his new blaster. This fight was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

A few blaster shots flew close to him, but he reflexively twisted out of the way. He soon returned fire, shots flying from his muzzle too quickly for any one of his opponents to track. Hundreds of evenings at a firing range had given him a steady hand and refined reflexes, and the robots were woefully unprepared to face an opponent with better aim than even their advanced programs. He blasted four opponents to bricks outright and caught a fifth in the back as it tried to make a run for it.

_To your right!_

The warning gave him just enough time to notice the robo-cop firing on him from the corner of his vision. He ducked below the shots, rolled towards his aggressor, and sprang up close enough to shove the barrel of his blaster into its face. One shot blew its head literally across the room.

As he turned around to face the rest of the remaining robots, something tugged at his feet, almost tripping him up. A downward glance revealed the one-handed robot he had neglected to dispatch, still on the floor, using its one good hand to grasp his ankle. Snarling with rage, he jerked his foot free, wound his leg back for a kick, and punted the robot's head off. The head zinged into another robot's shoulder, stunning it just long enough for him to blast it to pieces.

_That's seven shots, you should have two left on this model._

Though most of the robots were now inactive, the few remaining ones refused to give up the fight. One of the blaster-free robots attempted to rush him on his left, and it actually had the gall to try to pounce on him. Luckily, he still gripped the severed robotic arm in his left hand. He swung up his club and lodged its claw-end in the crack between the robot's neck and body. One good wrench popped the head clear off its shoulders.

He scanned the rest of the room for survivors. There were only two robots left, and they both stood side-by-side, each of them clutching a blaster. Though they kept their weapons trained on him, his face split with a victorious grin. Two robots, two remaining shots. This would be a piece of cake.

They each fired a shot at him, but he lunged to the left, avoiding both blasts quite easily. Not giving them the chance to recover, he aimed his own blaster and gave a couple pulls to the trigger.

Click-click.

_Oops. That gun probably wasn't fresh when you grabbed it._

He growled in frustration as he sprang to the right to avoid another set of shots. Though he was clearly at a disadvantage, the thought of surrender never even crossed his mind, not this late in the fight. Luckily, blasters were still somewhat useful, even when they were out of ammo. He chucked his gun at one of the two remaining robots, putting all of his strength behind the throw. His effort was rewarded as the blaster slammed into its torso and knocked it off its feet.

The other robot, perhaps a bit smarter than the rest of its crew, refused to be distracted, and it fired a few more shots. Bad Cop ducked below the first shot and leapt to avoid the second one. As the robot paused to recalculate its aim, Bad Cop hefted the severed robot arm over his shoulder and hurled it at his foe. This throw didn't have enough force to knock the robot over or take its head off, but it did smack the blaster from its hand, and that was good enough for him.

Without pausing for even a second, he sprinted towards the now-defenseless robot. The robo-cop tried to lunge for its fallen firearm, but unfortunately, it was too slow. With an angry shout, he pounced at the robot and tackled it to the ground. He pulled back a fist, intending to sock its head straight off.

_The other one's up!_

He glanced up from his current opponent to see that the other robot had gotten up and was now leveling its blaster at him. With a furious grunt, he yanked his robot captive off the floor and wrenched it in front of him like a shield. The blaster shot came not a millisecond later, blasting the pair of bodies backwards. While the robot was blown to pieces, Bad Cop's shield did the trick, and he landed several bricks away, mostly unharmed.

As he scrambled to his feet, he saw it – the fallen blaster on the floor, only a few bricks away. He dove for the weapon, narrowly avoiding another shot by his opponent, and slid barely close enough to clamp his hand around the handle. He raised the barrel and loosed a trio of shots at the robot.

The first shot blasted it to bricks. The other two were to make sure it was dead.

Panting, he pushed his body off the floor. He brought his blaster up and swept it across the room, but there were no more targets left to shoot. The floor was littered with the carnage of broken robots, some decapitated, others taken out by blasters. The room felt far too quiet without the clanking robotic feet or blaster fire. Now, he could only hear the quiet crackle of sparks and sizzle of smoke. As peaceful as the room seemed, however, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had forgotten something.

A quiet shuffle sounded from behind him.

With a furious snarl, he whipped around and fired a shot at the source of the noise.

Click.

He froze still at the realization of what had just happened. Standing there was the tall, imposing figure of Lord Business, though he certainly looked less imposing with his arms thrown up to shield himself from a blaster shot that never came. After a second, Business opened one eye, noticed that the cop was no longer firing, and let both his hands fall to his sides.

Bad Cop couldn't find the presence of mind to lower his blaster. Though everything had been done in self-defense, he had just singlehandedly destroyed an entire force of Business's guards. Then, without even hesitating, he had fired upon Lord Business himself. If his ammo hadn't run out at that particular moment, he might have even killed the man.

_Um… You did great and everything, but I think I should take it from here. It's still my turn, after all, so I'm going to take control again, if that's alright with you?_

Yes…yes, it was still technically his other side's turn, and he saw nothing wrong with letting his Good side voluntarily take the fallout for the most recent turns of events.

_Crink._

Good Cop glanced up to see that Lord Business still stared at him with wide eyes. The cop let out a twitchy, nervous chuckle, trying and failing to release some of the tension in the air. After a moment, he gave a worried glance at the gun, biting his lip. "Whoopsie, am I still holding this?" He tossed it over his shoulder with a sheepish grin. "All better, nothing to worry about, sir. I can't shoot you if I don't have a gun."

He anxiously tapped his hands together as he waited for Business to respond. When a seconds of awkward silence passed, he felt compelled to speak up once more. "Sorry for the whole, you know, trying to shoot you thing. My oth… I have very keen reflexes, is all. I thought you were another robot, sir, and I went a little trigger-happy. Again, I'm very sorry, and it won't happen again."

Lord Business shook the stunned look off his face. He then crossed his arms behind his back, putting on a more calculating expression. "Could you do the thing again?"

Good Cop made an insecure glance back at the robot wreckage. "With the robots, sir, or with shooting you?"

"No, I'm talking about the whole…" He gestured in a circle with one hand. "Flippy thing, with your face. Can you do it again?"

Good Cop couldn't see any harm in it, assuming his Bad side didn't have any objections.

_I don't._

_Crink._

Bad Cop kept his expression neutral as he assumed control of their body. Luckily, Lord Business didn't seem particularly angry that they had nearly shot him. Instead, he appeared downright intrigued, leaning forward slightly as if to get a closer look. Bad Cop resented being stared at like this, but he refused to move a muscle under Business's inquisitive attention.

"So, you're the guy that took out my guards?" the President asked as a few heavy footsteps brought him closer.

"Yes, sir," was Bad Cop's stiff reply. "I'm sorry for causing so much damage."

Business barked out a laugh. "What are you sorry for? That was incredible!" He began pacing a circle around Bad Cop. "If you can do that to my robots, just think of what you could do to actual criminals. I can afford to make new robots when the old ones get torn apart, but I can't afford to get a new human police chief every time one the old one kicks the bucket. If you can put up that kind of fight whenever you run into trouble, then I shouldn't have to worry about you at all."

It was a change of pace for someone to finally pay him respect for his skills. "Thank you, sir," he said gratefully.

Business put a hand to his chin, still pacing. "I have a few questions, though. I don't think I've seen someone like you before. You and the other guy, are you two separate people?"

"If by that you mean two separate minds inhabiting the same body, then yes," he answered.

"And you can swap out whenever you feel like it?"

"More or less." The actual state of affairs was far less even-handed than that, but he saw no harm in leading Business to believe that both he and his Good side had an equal share of control. "Typically, we each take twelve-hour turns unless something unusual happens." He doubted Good Cop would ever work up the nerve to violate the system they'd used for the last several years.

Business paused for a moment to consider a new question. "So, when do you sleep? Do you even need to sleep, if each of you is only 'active' for half the day?"

Bad Cop gave a nonchalant shrug. "Sleep has never been a problem before, sir. I haven't slept since I was a child."

An excited grin absorbed Lord Business's face. "I like it." His footsteps quickened, and he anxiously rubbed his hands together. "It's like getting two police chiefs for the price of one. Good Cop and his friendliness can keep the public happy by day, and…" He glanced down at the cop. "What do you call yourself?"

"Bad Cop, sir."

Business chuckled. "I really should have seen that coming." After a moment to compose himself, he continued, "And you, Bad Cop, can hunt down criminals by night. It's a win-win situation, the best of both worlds! I couldn't ask for a better police chief."

_He likes us, he really likes us!_

"Sir," the cop spoke up. "Does this mean…?"

"Welcome to the force, Bad Cop." He gave a small pause. "And Good Cop." Another pause. "You wouldn't happen to have any more guys on that head of yours, would you?"

"No, sir, only the two of us."

Business shrugged. "Two's good enough anyways." He turned towards the double-doors, which had still been left open from the recent surge of robots. Raising a hand to his face, he called out, "Velma! I need you to show Bad Cop to his new office!"


	3. Welcome to your New Office

Velma, as it turned out, was Business's main secretary and personal assistant in Octan Tower. She also turned out to be a robot, though the wig and clothes might have been able to fool someone at a great enough distance.

As she led him through the endless hallways and stairwells of the skyscraper, he couldn't help but notice how repetitive and symmetrical everything was. Each floor, barring a few exceptions such as the Filming Floor and Radio Floor, looked exactly like the ones above and below it. Without the robot to guide him, he would have gotten hopelessly lost within minutes.

Velma finally brought him to the 207th story, led him down yet another white hallway, and stopped in front of what would have otherwise been an average, black door. "Your office, chief," she twittered in her choppy, robotic voice.

Bad Cop glanced at the plain door skeptically. "Are you sure this is the right place?" Considering the display both he and his Good side had put on for Lord Business, was this really what he deserved? He wasn't a nameless, average cog in the machine of the Octan empire. He was someone important now, someone indispensable, and he honestly expected Business to give him more to work with than one of thousands of nameless rooms.

He turned to the secretary only to realize that she had already continued down the hallway without so much as a word. He narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. He resented being stared at, but he positively detested being ignored.

_She's probably busy, being Lord Business's assistant and everything. Is it really worth it to be mad at her?_

He let out a huff. No, it probably wasn't worth it to be angry at a robot. He shouldn't expect a mechanical secretary to have the same social graces as a normal person. Also, since Velma was so closely tied to Lord Business, he would eventually have to learn how to put up with her, not to mention all the other robots that marched down the hallways like rows of ants.

When he entered his new office and closed the door behind him, he discovered that the inside was about as standard and nondescript as the outside. Everything was either black or white – white walls, black desk, white floor, black chair, white ceiling, black filing cabinets. Perhaps the only thing that wasn't either of these colors was the bare corkboard hanging on the wall. There were no windows, so the only light in the room came from a few fluorescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

His eyes fell on the black-rimmed clock hanging beside the door. When he realized what time it was, he let out a distressed groan. He'd hoped that the interview had lasted long enough for his turn to begin on the trip up here, but sadly, it was only 5:55. He set his jaw and braced himself for Good Cop to take control back.

Except, nothing happened. A few moments passed, a few ticks of the clock, and still, he waited.

"Well?" he grumbled.

_You don't have to worry. You can start your turn early today._

He gave a disbelieving grunt. "Why?"

_Why not? It's only five extra minutes._

He refused to allow his posture to relax. Nothing was ever this simple when it involved Good Cop. His Good side was incredibly possessive with his designated time – they both were – and he'd seen the man obsess far more over far less. In addition, the robot fight and ensuing conversation with Business had taken a sizable chunk out of his other side's turn. Good Cop should have been even more tightfisted with his time, not less.

_Well, yes, but… You did a really good job today, fighting off all those robots and talking to Business. I don't want to punish you for that. It deserves a reward!_

Oh, so his Good side was throwing him a bone. Of course, his other side likely planned to do a great deal of this kind of thing in the future, rewarding "good" behavior and punishing "bad" behavior. Eventually, Good Cop would train him into a loyal, well-leashed puppy dog, obeying its master at even the slightest command.

_Wait, wait. That's really what you think I'm trying to do?_

Bad Cop grumbled angrily under his breath. He'd hoped that the train of thought had been too shallow and fleeting for his other side to pick up on, but that was obviously not the case.

_I'm not trying to 'train' you. That would be mean and pointless._

"Then what are you trying to do?" he growled. "Soften me up? Convince me to let my guard down?"

_Yes, exactly!_

He gave a disgruntled huff. "Not interested."

_No, you don't understand, you never understand, I just…I really don't want us to be constantly at each other's throats anymore. We have a job that needs our dedication and focus for every minute of every day for the next several years. How can we concentrate on stopping crime if we're constantly worrying if our other side trying to undermine us?_

"Simple. We stick to the rules and ignore what our other side is doing," he answered. "We'll do everything exactly the way we've done it before. Twelve-hour turns, no violations for anything but life-threatening circumstances."

_So, you're perfectly fine with me sending you out to fight robots to the death, but not with me giving you an extra… two minutes now, by letting you start your turn early?_

Bad Cop's retort caught in his throat. When his other side put it that way, it all seemed so silly and senseless. However, he understood that his Good side had a talent for twisting the truth to serve his purpose. Taking anything the man said at face-value was dangerous.

_I meant what I said to Lord Business, you know. About trust?_

The cop deepened his scowl and turned his back on the clock. He stormed across the room, stopped in front of the desk, and forcefully took a seat in the black chair. If his other side wanted to ramble on about trust, friendship, and other kinds of pansy nonsense, Bad Cop would darn well do his best to ignore him. He refused to give into his Good side's attempts to soften him up.

_Sometimes, trust is better than fear. Just think for a moment, think about what we could do if we only trusted each other. All the crime we could stop, all the lives we could change…_

He slid his hands across the dark surface of the desk. It was slick, shiny, like the bricks in it were brand new. Still, as much as he tried to concentrate on the physical sensation, he couldn't block out his other side's words.

_I don't want to be afraid of you anymore._

He couldn't stop the scoff from forcing its way out of his throat. "You control everything. You're the dominant personality. You get to choose who's in charge and when, but you're the one who's afraid of me?" A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. "You are the most cowardly police officer I've ever seen."

It was a few seconds before his Good side gave a response.

_That might be true, but I don't want you to be afraid of me either._

He violently jumped out of his seat and slammed his hands down on the desk. "I am not afraid of you!"

_Then why are you acting this way?_

Bad Cop gripped his chair in both hands, and with a furious roar, he ripped it straight out of the floor. Fueled by nothing less than pure rage, he flung it across the room. It collided with one of his filing cabinets and both objects fell to the ground with a tremendous crash.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry!_

"You should be!" he bellowed.

_We'll do things your way, okay? We'll go back to how it was, splitting everything evenly. You get twelve hours, I get twelve hours. You get half the office, I get the other half. You get to spend half of each paycheck. I know that's not really what you're after-_

"That is all I'm after," he interrupted.

_…but since I can't give you what you really want, this is the best I can do._

He spent several moments panting through clenched teeth, anger still humming throughout his body. Once he took this time to think things through, he realized that his other side was absolutely right. An even share of everything was a compromise he was willing to make, but when everything was said and done, he wished for far more than that. Unfortunately, his Good side would never dare give him the full extent of what he wanted.

A few rapid knocks on the door startled him out of the thought he'd been having. After a moment, the buzz of a robotic voice called out, "Chief? Is everything alright?"

The breath caught in his throat as he realized the exact gravity of what he'd done over the last few minutes. Looking back on his half of the conversation, the only part anyone else was capable of hearing, he'd sounded nothing less than completely insane. How was he going to explain this to Lord Business? He'd just ripped his chair out of the floor, for heaven's sake!

He glanced at the clock: just barely past six. He felt a twinge of annoyance that his Good side had tricked him into keeping control for those last five minutes, but that emotion was soon overtaken by a far more powerful one – dread. It was his turn now, which meant he was on his own.

_No, you're never on your own. Let me handle this._

_Crink._

Good Cop took a deep breath and called out, "I'm fine, no need to worry!"

_You…you interrupted my turn!_

"I heard a crash," the robot responded in its usual monotone. "And shouting."

Good Cop opened the door to the office and leaned out into the hallway. He gave a glance in both directions to find that at least a dozen robots had stopped by to gawk. The closest robot, however, stood next to a stack of hollow, blocky objects, all of them black. When Good Cop saw the black and white helmet perched on top of the pile, he realized what they must have been.

Deciding what kind of show he needed to give the staring robots, he put on a joyful smile. "I was just rearranging the furniture. I accidentally tipped over one of the filing cabinets, and I got very frustrated. I'm sorry if my yelling disturbed you."

"Oh," the closest robot replied. None of the other robots gave any indication that they opposed this explanation. In fact, a few of them left the scene, continuing on their way down the hall.

He gestured to the stack. "Are those my new uniforms?"

"Yes," that robot replied simply.

"Great!" He gripped the sides of the stack and began to guide it through the doorway. Like most piles of clothing, the heap of rigid, hollow blocks proved to be as tall as he was, and it was with great luck that he managed to push the entire thing into his office without toppling it over.

He flashed his smile at the few robots that remained. "We don't need to bother Lord Business about any of this. He's busy enough as it is."

He watched a few of the robots vigorously nod in agreement. Clearly, they were all just as afraid of Lord Business as he was. Perhaps even more so, considering how replaceable they all were. There was no doubt that his excuse would stick.

He ducked back inside the office and carefully closed the door. After taking a moment to make sure all the loose ends were tied up, he slumped against the wall and let a stressed sigh out of his chest. Though he'd dealt with the problem as quickly and cleanly as possible, that had been a little too tense for his liking.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from shaking. He wanted to feel relieved for escaping that precarious situation. He wanted to feel accomplished that he had done it so quickly. He at least wanted to feel a little satisfied for solving a problem that his other side couldn't have even begun to approach.

Yet, he could feel nothing beyond the grip of overwhelming guilt. After all of his talk about trust and giving each other the benefit of the doubt, how had he responded? By stabbing his other side in the back, stealing the one thing his Bad side wanted most – control. He'd impulsively interrupted Bad Cop's turn for something that wasn't life-threatening or even strictly necessary. How would his other side ever be able to trust him now, knowing that Good Cop might seize control at any moment?

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled.

_Crink._

Bad Cop, not expecting to be flung out so soon, stumbled a little as he took control.

_Sorry. I thought you wanted control back as soon as possible._

Well, yes, that was completely true. He'd never expected his other side to be so quick with the matter, however.

_You looked like you needed help, and I wanted to help you. You did the same for me earlier today, getting rid of the robots, so I just thought… Again, I'm very sorry, I was being impulsive, and it won't happen again._

Try as he might, he couldn't wipe the stunned expression off his face. He wanted to feel angry that his Good side had stolen a part of his turn. He wanted to feel worried that it might happen again. He at least wanted to feel annoyed that his other side had just violated the system they'd maintained for years without either of them stepping out of line.

Yet, he simply couldn't get over the fact that his Good side had not only swept in to save them both from a precarious situation, but also felt guilty for doing so. Bad Cop couldn't even dredge up a smidgeon of guilt for carving nearly an hour out of his other side's turn earlier that day. In comparison, his Good side refused to stop beating himself up over less than two minutes of lost time. He'd expected Good Cop to try to dance around the issue, downplaying its severity and otherwise trying to manipulate his way back into his other side's good graces. Bad Cop knew that token apologies played a key part in those efforts, but he'd never expected those apologies to be so irrefutably sincere.

He did some work around the office to distract himself. He sorted the pile of clothes, separating the pants from the jackets and setting the helmet on top of the one filing cabinet that was still standing. It didn't take much time to pluck the chair off the floor and reattach it to its designated spot in front of the desk. He was pleased to see that the chair wasn't too damaged. A small ding on the corner of the seat was the only sign that it had ever been thrown across the room.

He also righted the filing cabinet, a task which wasn't particularly difficult considering that the cabinet was almost empty. Its only contents, a couple of traffic reports and some other useful documents, he placed on his desk. Trying to calm down even further, he took a seat in the chair, slouched a little, and put his feet up on the desk. He snatched up one of the documents and began scanning it.

The shock had definitely worn off at this point, but he still couldn't find a way to concentrate. His eyes followed the same line of text over and over again, unable to glean any information from it. His thoughts kept wandering back to when his other side had interrupted his turn. Despite all the fuss he made about it, he'd known for a long time it would have happened eventually. Even though they'd kept up the twelve-hour system for nearly a decade, all good things eventually came to an end.

_This doesn't have to be the end. We can still do the twelve-hour thing if you want._

Bad Cop, a bit startled that his Good side had waited until now to speak up, hesitated a moment before muttering a gruff, "Thanks."

_You're welcome. You can get back to that missing person report. I won't bother you anymore._

This was a missing person report? Bad Cop quickly scanned the first few lines of the page to discover that his other side had definitely been paying attention to what they'd been reading. Apparently, a man named Daniel Slider had disappeared a little under a week ago, and his friends were more than a little concerned. The restaurant he worked at had even hired another waiter to cope with their employee's absence.

Suspicion sparking in Bad Cop's mind, he snatched a few other documents off the desk and skimmed them. Yes, a different form indicated that Daniel had been sent a deportation notice just a few days before his disappearance. However, there was no notice from the transportation department indicating that he had legally left Bricksburg. The walls around the city were very well-constructed, and any tunnels through them were thoroughly patrolled and regulated, so Bad Cop doubted this man had somehow made it out of Bricksburg without detection.

This was the first challenge of his career, and he had no doubt it would prove to be an interesting one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It's so much fun to write for Bad Cop. There's something appealing about handling a character whose instinctive response to emotional distress is to chuck chairs across a room. On the other hand, writing for Good Cop is an interesting challenge. My interpretation of him is a little unorthodox, but I'm sure it will give you a good story regardless._
> 
> _I once heard someone say something about how Bad Cop is the "dominant personality" of the duo. Assuming that "dominant personalities" are something that happens in this scenario, why does it have to be Bad Cop? Why shouldn't Good Cop be the one in control, a warden looking on nervously while his Bad side rages behind the bars? It certainly explains why Good Cop seems to be the more socially-adjusted of the two, and it leads to some interesting implications down the road._
> 
> _See you next chapter, wherein questions continue to accumulate faster than they can be answered and drama finds a way to escalate even further._


	4. How to Manage your Time

Business seemed like the kind of man who took advantage of his resources. Given a police chief that consisted of two men inhabiting the same body, he split the job into two distinct parts, each one perfectly suited for the side it was intended for. Also, since the cops never slept, Business gave them a full-time job, quite literally. There were no breaks for sleep or relaxation – Good Cop took a twelve hour shift during the day, and Bad Cop took the remaining twelve hours at night. They had no time to focus on anything but their work, and they loved every second of it.

Bad Cop, especially, enjoyed taking part in a career where he could finally make good use his talents. However, there were times when even Bad Cop found himself frustrated at this job.

He ground his teeth in agitation and held his walky-talky with an iron grip as he listened to yet another disappointing report. His strides were stiff, barely restrained as he stormed through the 207th floor of Octan Tower. Robots literally dove out of his way as he rounded a corner in the hallway. His uniform, not yet properly broken in, ground a little in the joints as he walked, adding to his irritation.

"There is nothing in the alleyway, chief," came the flat, tinny voice of a robot from his walky-talky. "We searched everywhere and didn't find a trace of anything unusual."

This only deepened Bad Cop's fury. Oh, how he wanted to be in that alleyway with them so he could give them a piece of his mind… "Then search it again, you bucket of bolts! This is the first lead we've had on Slider for weeks."

"There is nothing here, chief," the robot repeated. "We checked inside every trash can. We checked through every brick in the sidewalk for secret passages. There is no one here."

"The camera saw him enter the alley, and since it still hasn't seen him leave, we know he has to be there!" He noticed his office door coming up on his right, but he refused to reduce his pace. If he slowed down even slightly, he was afraid he would give into the growing urge to smash something.

"What do you want us to do, chief?" the robot on his walky-talky asked. "People will wake up soon. They might see us. Are you sure you want us to search the alley again?"

His breath hissed out between clenched teeth. How he cursed the uniforms Business made his night-shift robo-cops wear. If the words "Super-Secret Police" weren't printed in huge, incredibly visible letters across the back, perhaps Bad Cop could have afforded to let them keep searching. For now, though, it looked like he would have to recall his robots for the day and try pursing a new lead the following night.

_Maybe he's in one of the nearby buildings?_

"Search the neighboring buildings," he grumbled to his robots. What other options did he have? It wasn't as if he had any better ideas. "If you don't find anything, return to base."

"On it, chief." The robo-cop's signal cut off with a small fritz of static.

Conversation over, he tore the walky-talky away from his head and clipped it to his belt. He finally allowed himself to slow down a bit, and he turned about to double back towards his office. It was the same featureless black door as always, but he no longer had any problems telling which room was his. With both his mind and his other side's dedicated to memorizing its position in the building, it had only taken them a week to stop getting lost on their trips up here.

He pushed through the door and immediately turned to the check on the clock inside. At the realization that it was already 5:59, he gave a frustrated groan. He'd meant to get their morning routine started, but-

_It's fine, it's fine. You needed the extra time. It's not like anything bad will happen if I start my patrol a little later than usual._

Still, he wanted to make their shift change as simple as possible. Since he had less than a minute left, he limited himself to tidying up his half of the desk. All of the paperwork regarding the Slider case went into its own pile. A handful of similar cases had popped up over the last few weeks, but since none of them had attracted the same amount of investigation as Slider's, he put all of them all into one separate stack. He turned around and gave another glance to the clock – only a few seconds away from six AM.

He watched the second hand tick towards its goal, taking these last few moments to compose himself before his Good side's turn started.

_Crink._

* * *

Good Cop relished the morning routine – taking a shower on the Gym Floor, brushing his teeth in one of the bathrooms, and the like. He didn't necessarily enjoy those kinds of tasks in and of themselves, but they did give him the chance to calm down and reset after a busy night of watching his Bad side run the Super-Secret Police.

He was halfway through shaving when the walky-talky at his hip let out strident ring. Good Cop dropped his razor into the sink in sheer surprise. Who could it possibly be? It was too early for anyone to bothr calling him, and his Bad side's robots should have returned to the base by now. He scrambled to unclip the radio and hesitantly brought it up to his head.

_It's nothing. One of the robots must've bashed their call button when they-_

"We got him, chief."

The whole world went still. He couldn't figure out how to breathe, much less talk, and the silence in his head told him that his Bad side couldn't think of much to say either. After several seconds, Good Cop finally managed to choke out a "What?"

The robot on the radio spoke again. "Your suspicions were correct, chief. We found Daniel Slider hiding in the basement of the adjacent apartment complex."

Good Cop almost couldn't believe it. His Bad side had been searching for Slider for so long, he was beginning to think they would never find him.

_Thirty-three days. Thirty-three days of false leads and cold trails. He might have evaded the law for five weeks, but he couldn't stay hidden for six._

He chewed his bottom lip in apprehension. So, Slider was found. What was he supposed to do about that? This kind of operation was his Bad side's job, not his.

_Make sure they have him secured, you moron!_

"Do you have him secured?" he asked with a wavering voice.

"Yes, chief. Six of us stormed the basement and subdued him. He is currently handcuffed in the back of one of the police trucks."

His shoulders slumped in relief. Slider had given his other side nothing but stress and disappointment. Now that the man was caught, maybe his Bad side wouldn't feel the need to be so perpetually high-strung.

_Oh, we're not done yet. This is just the beginning._

"Where do you want us to take him, chief?" the robot on the radio asked flatly.

Good Cop hesitated once again. Should he let his Bad side switch in to deal with this, or…?

_No. Tell them to put Slider in one of the holding chambers until I start my turn._

"Take him to one of the holding chambers," he repeated. "Watch him until we meet you down there. It's going to be a while – around six-ish tonight?"

"Yes, chief. We'll be waiting for you."

A bit of static signaled the end of the exchange, but Good Cop was still unsure of what to do. After a moment of dead silence, he slowly lowered the radio and stuck it back onto his hip. He glanced back into the bathroom mirror, noticed that half of his face was still covered in shaving cream, and delicately retrieved his razor from where it had landed in the sink.

* * *

After the morning rituals, he made the return to his office with quick, jerky steps. To most people, this was an unbearably early hour of the morning, but the halls of the tower continued to buzz with activity. Robots bustled through the hallway, giving their chief of police a wide berth as they rushed to and from different tasks. Like the two cops, they didn't need sleep to function, so they were free to work around the clock.

He couldn't help but notice how few actual people there were in the building. Sure, he spotted a couple – a janitor or secretary hidden in a sea of suit-clad automatons – but he suspected that these people wouldn't remain employed here for much longer. President Business was likely trying to phase out the "human error" of his company. Soon, all that would remain would be a handful of TV actors, a certain police chief, and Business himself. Plus a few criminals in the holding chambers, of course.

He hesitantly wondered if this was truly the right way to deal with Slider. It wasn't as if he was opposed to locking the guy up – Slider had clearly disobeyed his deportation notice, and avoiding the police for weeks certainly hadn't helped matters. Good Cop also wasn't opposed to putting the man through a rough interrogation. It might give them useful information that could help them find the other missing deportees out there. However, Good Cop wasn't sure that they should wait an entire day before interrogating him. His Bad side was convinced that Slider was a key criminal. Why give him the time to figure out how to escape? Why not interrogate him now?

_No. I'm not going to let you of all people interrogate the one criminal who I finally caught._

Well, technically, the robots were the ones who caught Slider, and it was his own suggestion that led to the man's arrest…

_My forces caught him. He's mine._

Then, why shouldn't he let Bad cop take an hour or two out of turn to run a quick interrogation?

_No, I am not going to act out of turn again. Unless you're offering me a few free hours?_

Good Cop shook his head. He didn't want to abandon the even time split entirely. Instead, however much time Bad Cop took up with the interrogation, Good Cop would take back at the end of this day's turn. If the interrogation took two hours, his turn would last until eight instead of six.

_I still get the same amount of time._

That was the idea, yes.

_Then my answer is no._

Even if it would be a lot of help to both of them if they broke turn again, just this once?

_No._

What if Slider found a way to escape? That was Good Cop's main source of worry.

_He won't. He has a dozen robots keeping close guard on him._

Good Cop sighed. He knew this routine all too well. They would encounter a problem, he would come up with a whole manner of solutions, and his Bad side would refuse to follow any of them. Instead, Bad Cop always preferred the one solution that he'd come up with himself. The more illogical and senseless this solution, the more vehemently he would defend it. Though Good Cop understood why his Bad side did it, it more than a little annoying, almost toddler-like.

_Did you just call me childish?_

Childish? No, not exactly. People of all ages did this kind of routine. Toddlers were the main offenders, though.

_Hmph._

He let his gaze stray to the floor. It looked like Slider was going to wait. Technically, Good Cop had the authority to head down to the holding chambers and interrogate Slider with or without his other side's consent, though he had no drive to do so. That kind of thing was better suited for his Bad side's skillset, and he would much rather spend his limited time on his own half of the job.

_You wouldn't be able to handle it._

After a moment of thought, he silently agreed. Slider was likely a hardened criminal, his mouth sealed shut by years of illegal activities. They needed answers about his strange disappearance, but Good Cop simply didn't have the heart to beat the information out of him. Plus, if Slider was as dangerous as his Bad side painted him to be, Good Cop didn't even want to be in the same room as him. Though Bad Cop had trained in martial arts for years, none of that training carried over once they swapped.

_You really are a pansy, you know that? I struggled and trained to get the skills I have today, and I toughened myself up in the process. You? Everything was handed to you. It's made you soft._

He would admit, he did have a very lucky lot in life, and-

_How you ever managed to become the dominant personality is beyond me. You sure as heck don't deserve it._

Normally, Good Cop could shrug off his other side's jabs without too much difficulty. It was a natural part of life for him. At this most recent remark, however, he hunched his shoulders and drew his mouth into a flat line. He forced himself to take deep, even breaths, though he knew those efforts wouldn't steady him completely.

His Bad side said nothing more. He was probably too busy celebrating how badly he'd shaken his Good side up. Good Cop, meanwhile, let out a strained sigh. If they were having these kinds of arguments so early in the shift, this was going to be a long day.

* * *

There were two jobs the police chief needed to fulfill. One of them was commanding a large division of specialized robots known as the Super-Secret Police. This, obviously, was Bad Cop's duty. The other job dealt with the regular police force, and Good Cop did this gratefully.

Physically, his job consisted of a very long, very haphazard patrol around Bricksburg. He simply drove down the streets, keeping a lookout for criminal activity and writing traffic tickets whenever appropriate. He also smiled and waved to a couple people, occasionally helping them with directions, though this wasn't so much a part of his job as it was his personal nature.

Every few hours, he would take a break, park the car somewhere, and perform the "chief" portion of his "chief of police" title. He was in charge of coordinating the police efforts across the entire Lego universe, which was just as impressive as it sounded. He spent a huge chunk of his time communicating with the other law-enforcers out there - radioing the sheriffs in the Old West, relaying messages to the knights in Middle Zealand, hailing patrol ships in the Space Zone, and the like.

President business knew that Good Cop liked talking to people, and the man had been kind enough to give him a job where he could talk with literally anyone in the entire Octan police force at will. He spent much of his time excitedly chatting away on the radio, receiving patrol reports from places halfway across the Lego universe, learning thousands of little tidbits of information as he went. He even occasionally sent officers across the borders of the realms, lending support where it was needed.

He glanced out through the windshield of his sparkling-new, black-and-white police car. From his parallel parking spot, he got a very nice view of both the passing cars and the mob of people surging down the sidewalk. It was on the verge of becoming rush hour, so traffic was a tad heavier than usual. People hurried for home, somehow finding the energy to smile after a long day at their respective workplaces. Good Cop couldn't help but smile back, knowing that they were still enjoying themselves on this average, fairly boring day.

He continued with the conversation he'd been having on his walky-talky. "How large did you say the sea serpent was?" he asked.

He heard a violent, hissing screech from the speaker before his conversation partner, a Viking warrior, was able to respond. "It's about twenty bricks, chief."

Good Cop let out high-pitched whistle. "That's huge!" A huge roar sounded over the radio, but he tried to ignore it. "You shouldn't have to worry, though. I sent two dozen Bricksburg officers to Viking's Landing you as soon as you called me. I also radioed the Heropolis division, so you should get a couple of superheroes to help you out, too."

The sound of splintering wood came through his radio, along with a few faraway shouts. "Thanks, chief," the warrior replied, a little breathless. "We should hold up until they get here. You know which heroes are coming?"

Good Cop frowned. "Sorry, no. They don't report to me directly."

"Oh well. We'll figure it out when they show up." Another roar, this one a little louder than the first. "Thanks again. It's great having a police chief like this."

He clutched this radio a little tighter in excitement. "Really? Was the other one…bad?"

The warrior's hearty laughter covered up whatever sounds of carnage happened next. "No, it's great to just have a chief in the first place. Before King Business set up this whole communication system, Viking's Landing was all on its own. Now, you're here to send us help when we need it."

"Oh?" He sat up a little bit straighter. "Thank you!"

"Don't mention it." A third roar rang out over the walky-talky, partnered by a couple of screams. "Darn it all!" the warrior shouted. "Look, I need to go, talk to you later." With a small spasm of static, all the sounds of the battle cut off.

Good Cop lowered the radio and let a sigh of contentment out of his chest. It was great to feel like he was making a deep, positive impact on the world. Because of him, the people of the Lego universe could sleep a little more soundly tonight.

_Yeah, yeah. Let me know when you actually catch any of those criminals or beat up any monsters yourself._

He gave a puzzled expression at his other side's response. Sure, much of his job depended on sending other people out to take care of problems, but it was still up to him to make the decision of which people to send and how many. Besides, it wasn't as if his Bad side had personally captured any criminals either. Slider had ultimately been caught by the robots.

_But…I…rrgh, I should have been there. I wanted to be there during the search, I stayed as long as I could-_

But Bad Cop had left before the search was over in order to make it back to the office before they swapped turns.

_Exactly._

Good Cop sunk a little into his seat, muttering under his breath. "If you wanted me to, I would have given you the extra time to finish the search. An hour or two, maybe."

_At the expense of letting your turn last an hour or two later into the evening, naturally._

"It's only fair."

_Then no._

He clamped his mouth shut before he could speak another word. Turned down once again. He forced himself to take a few slow, deep breaths. He only needed to remind himself that everything his other side did was totally understandable, even if it when it was completely unreasonable.

_I'm not being unreasonable. You're being unreasonable. Every time you offer to 'help' me, I refuse. Won't you get the message?_

It was alright for his Bad side to refuse any and all help that was offered to him, even when there was absolutely no logical reason to do so.

_I don't need your help, so you should stop harassing me about it already._

It was alright for his other side to be a hypocrite. Lots of people were hypocrites, especially people who had some emotional issues they needed to work out.

_Oh, this is rich. You think I have emotional problems? You're afraid of almost everything. You're scared of Slider. You're scared of Business. You're even scared of me. A wimp like you being the dominant personality, it makes me sick to my stomach._

Good Cop clamped his hands to the steering wheel and found that he no longer had any real control over his breathing. He struggled to find another way to steady himself, but unfortunately, he knew that his Bad side wouldn't give him the opportunity to look for one.

_You're the dominant one, but we both know you don't deserve it. Go on, admit it._

Good Cop forcefully shifted their car out of park and backed out into the street without first checking over his shoulder. Luckily, he didn't run into anyone, and he sped off down the road with a squeal of the tires.

_Huh. Did I finally find a way to make the oh-so-unflappable Good Cop angry?_

He barely had the presence of mind to flick his blinker as he turned right. Once he completely the turn, his face stretched with a broad smile. "Angry? I'm not angry," he replied, his voice light and almost overly joyful. "Why would I be angry? We've been working at this job for over a month, and even though both of our jobs are demanding, you turn down every single one of my offers to make it easier for the both of us. How would that make me angry, going through that kind of thing several times a day?"

_Um…_

"Oh, and it gets even better!" His voice inched a little higher, still keeping its happy lilt. "Every time I even bring up the idea of helping you, you turn the entire conversation into an argument. You know how much I love arguments! Even when I try to let the whole thing go, you always want to get the last word in by giving me a couple of cute jabs, all of them solely intended to hurt me on a personal level. That's super-helpful, won't you agree?"

_I don't go out of my way to argue with you._

Good Cop managed to smile even wider. "Oh, I'm sure you don't. What would arguing do for you, anyways? Besides, you know, giving you a way to control your otherwise uncontrollable life? I can try to help you all I want, but if you refuse to accept my help, then you must be in control of the situation. But, if I won't let it bother me, it takes some of your control away, and you won't let that happen, obviously. Instead, you find a way to rile me up, which makes you feel like you have some sort of control over my half of our life. But, that's not at all what you're trying to do, is it?"

His Bad side didn't seem to have any response to this, but Good Cop wasn't even close to being done yet.

"But, wait, there's more! I could force you to do along with my help if I really wanted you to. You can't do anything to stop me, but I give you a choice in the matter because I want you to have as much freedom as possible. But, every time I try to give you the freedom to do your job properly without being strangled by the turn-based system, you turn me down. Hooray!"

_But…you can't want me to have as much freedom as possible._

"You silly goose!" he giggled. "When did I do anything to give you that impression?"

_You won't make me the dominant personality._

His smile slipped a little bit, but he still kept the happy note in his voice. "That's not something I can just decide to do. Didn't you know that? I thought you knew that."

_I do know that._

"Then why would you bring it up?" His smile was back in full-force, almost psychotic in its intensity. "You must have better reasons for not trusting me. You're a reasonable guy, aren't you? You're not some repressed control freak with a self-loathing problem who'll go to outrageous extremes just to prove that he's relevant to the universe in some way. That's not you, right? You're so well-put together! Maybe you deserve to be the dominant personality after all."

_I… You need to slow down._

"Oh, I'm so very sorry. Was I going a little too fast for you? You're usually so quick on the uptake!"

_No, I mean to slow down the car._

One glance at the speedometer was enough to shock Good Cop into punching the breaks. No self-respecting officer would ever be caught speeding, especially not twenty over the limit. A few cars around him honked indignantly at his sudden change in speed, but he paid them no mind. All that mattered right now was finding a parking spot. He was obviously in no good state to be driving.

Luckily, there was a free parallel parking spot near the middle of the next block. He backed into it extremely carefully, trying to keep his nerves steady. His anger had mostly dissipated by this point, but a whole other host of emotions had naturally taken its place. Disappointment, guilt, shock, frustration, all those kinds of things that made it difficult to concentrate.

He took the time to shift into park and turn off the car. Then, his face clenched in a grimace, he pressed his head against the top of his wheel. Why had he lashed out like that? He never lost his temper. Why had he allowed himself to get that angry?

_Because I was trying to make you angry. I'm surprised it's taken you this long to snap._

He didn't like being angry. It had the tendency to bring out all the worst aspects of people. In Good Cop's case, it turned him into a reckless, impulsive psycho who refused to pay attention to anything except his own emotions. He also hated how it made him want to hurt people, even the people who were closest to him. Oh, those things he'd said to his Bad side…most of it wasn't forgivable, really. Every one of those passive-aggressive jabs had been created solely for the purpose of deep, emotional injury, taking revenge for years of insults and arguments.

_I lose my temper all the time. You lose it for the first time in years and feel guilty about it. Stop pitying yourself, it doesn't suit you._

He lifted his head off of the steering wheel and blinked a few times in surprise. Was his Bad side really trying to forgive him for everything?

_There's nothing to forgive. I taunted you until you snapped. I did some stupid things, and you told me off. That's all you need to care about. You can get back to doing your job now._

Good Cop shook his own head to clear it. His mind was sluggish with emotional exhaustion, and he really didn't think he was up to the task of doing anything else today. Luckily, a glance at his car's clock told him that there were only ten minutes left of his turn. So long as nothing interesting happened, he could actually take some time to rest and clear his thoughts before his Bad side took over and rushed off to interrogate Slider.

_What's that near the alley?_

His gaze flicked towards the nearby sidewalk, focusing on a figure who had originally been a blur in his peripheral vision. Everything about the man screamed of suspicious activity – the ripped state of his jeans, the white hoodie pulled low over his head, the overly-casual way he slouched against the brick wall. This was a shadier area of town, with older building models and small bits of faded graffiti. There was barely any traffic on the sidewalk, making this odd man seem increasingly out of place.

After a moment, the man stood up straight, gave a quick glance up and down the street, and casually strolled into the nearby alleyway. He was up to something, no doubt. This obviously needed investigation.

Good Cop groaned and threw his head back against the seat. He didn't want to have to deal with this right now. Why couldn't it be his Bad side's turn already? His instinct was to offer his other side the chance to start his turn early, but he also didn't want to have to deal with another argument so soon after the last one.

_Alright, alright, quit your whining. I'll do it._

His face instantly lit up with both surprise and delight. "Really?"

_Really._

He couldn't stop himself from asking, "Why?"

There was a heavy pause before his other side answered.

_I'm better suited for this kind of operation. Knowing you, you'll try to start a friendly conversation with him, and his friends will jump you as soon as you let your guard down. It's safer to let me go in there._

A bright, genuine smile appeared on his face. "Plus, ten minutes isn't worth an argument."

_It…shouldn't be._

He let out a happy chuckle. "Alright, then." He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, readying himself for the switch.

_Quit stalling. The longer we wait, the harder-_

_Crink._

"-it'll be to track him down."

As soon as Bad Cop realized he was in control, he wasted no time. He reached across to the passenger side of the car and grasped the blaster lying innocently on the seat. With frantic movements, he hastily unclipped his Good side's gun from his hip and replaced it with the new one. Good Cop's blaster was designed to stun targets. This one was meant to kill.

He threw open the car door and jumped out, his movements fueled by the thrill of his unexpected early start. However, he closed the door as quietly as possible, trying to avoid a loud slam that would echo down the alley. This operation required stealth. This mystery man wouldn't know what hit him.

Gun in hand, he crept towards the alley, every part of his body wound tight with excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Don't make Good Cop angry. You won't like him when he's angry._
> 
> _So, yes, a super-long chapter. It was originally supposed to be much shorter, and most of it was intended to be exposition and setup for the next chapter. But, you know what happens when you give the cops more than five seconds to interact - they get into long, interesting conversations. Those conversations inevitably do such a good job of weaving in the central themes and progressing character arcs that they justify their own length. That doesn't mean this part of the story wasn't a pain to put together, though._


	5. How to Beat the Odds

Luckily for Bad Cop, the alley didn't cut straight through the block. It had several twists and turns, cracks between buildings that had been constructed during a more frantic, less organized time. The location was perfect for stealthy operations, and the suspicious man obviously wanted to stay out of sight. However, this also made it easy for Bad Cop to approach without being spotted, and the drab, gray walls seemed to reflect sound very well, making it easy to hear the man's movements.

At the sound of hushed voices from around a corner, Bad Cop pressed himself against the wall and held his breath. The man was extremely close, no more than about five bricks away, and he wasn't alone. There were at least three people involved in this conversation, two men and one woman. Their words were slightly garbled from echoing around the narrow spaces, but they were still clear enough to understand.

"Can't we stay a little longer?" the woman breathed, her voice heavy with concern.

"Nah, babe," one of the men spoke a throaty voice. "I know a cop when I see one. The dude parked right in front of me. Cop knows we're here."

The woman made a flustered noise. "That's exactly why we can't leave Slider behind. The police have been looking for him for weeks, and I don't want to abandon him while there's a cop car parked nearby."

Bad Cop's entire body tensed up at the name. He'd suspected that Slider had plenty of friends in low places – it would explain how the man had kept himself hidden for so long. Now, he finally had proof. This eavesdropping opportunity certainly answered a few questions for him, and it also spawned a sea of new ones to investigate once he interrogated his prisoner tonight.

The man from before spoke up again. "Dan's twenty minutes late. Dude's never been late before. Connect some dots."

The other man chose this moment to speak, his voice decidedly more reserved than his partners'. "If he was captured as you implied, then the Super-Secret Police likely know of this meeting."

This brought dead silence to the alleyway. Bad Cop froze still and held his breath again to avoid being heard. If they discovered where he was, then the next few minutes would prove to be extremely difficult.

The reserved man spoke again. "Did you see who was driving?"

"Nah, dude. Couldn't really walk up to the guy and look at his face, y'know?"

"Maybe it's Bad Cop?" the woman asked in barely a whisper.

"I wouldn't believe so. That officer and his droids do not come out until nightfall – it is barely sunset."

"So, maybe it's Goodie?" the informal man spoke up.

"That is a possibility. However, I would not expect to see Good Cop in this area of town. He tends towards the newer districts. It is the reason we chose to meet here of all places." The reserved man paused before continuing. "We also have reports of several Bricksburg officers leaving this world through the southern tunnel. They were around two-dozen in number, if Jean is to be believed."

_These criminals keep watch over the tunnels? There are tons of cameras and patrols there. Why haven't we spotted any of them?_

Bad Cop narrowed his eyes. This conspiracy kept getting deeper by the second.

"Two-dozen? That's almost the entire Bricksburg force, isn't it?" the woman asked. "What are the chances that one of the leftover officers swung by this area of town and spotted us?"

"Prolly zilch," the throaty man responded. "So, we got a cop who knows we're here, and it's not Goodie, Baddie, or any of their lackeys?"

"Actually, it is equally likely to be any of them." the more tempered man replied. "That is what worries me."

After a moment, the woman let out a pained sigh. "Alright. You've convinced me. Let's just go before we all wind up in a cell."

"A wise decision. Where is your car parked?"

"Blockerton Street," she said, a note of defeat in her voice.

"Good thing, too. Won't havta go through the cop to get there."

"Still, I will escort you to your car," the other man offered. "I sense that something about this situation is…dangerous. Perhaps I will even ride with you and ensure that nothing happens on your trip back to the Bricksburg base."

_Bricksburg base?_

Implying that these criminals had bases in the other Lego worlds?

_This is not good. We can't let them get away._

A few clicks, perhaps footsteps, sounded from around the corner of the alley. After a moment, the informal man spoke, barely above a whisper. "Jane. Don't worry. He'll be fine."

The woman gave a sniffle. "I can't imagine what Bad Cop must be doing to him right now…"

"Dan knew the stakes. Knew what he was getting into. Dude took a risk. Maybe it worked, maybe not, but the dude was ready to take the heat when it came to him."

The woman whimpered. "We shouldn't have let him get involved in this. He would been safer letting them deport him to-"

"To Clown Town? Seriously, babe, you think Dan'd be happy getting booted to Clown Town?"

"No," she moaned. "He loved Bricksburg."

"And whaddabout you? Dino Island fit your groove at all?"

"No."

"And me, what happens when LB decides I 'don't belong' and sticks me in Heropolis or something?"

"I get it!" she suddenly snapped. "It's just…hard to accept."

_It's sad, really. None of these people would be happy in a city like Bricksburg. That's why Business tried to deport them, isn't it?_

Bad Cop gritted his teeth. Now was not a good time for this kind of sympathetic distraction.

_I'm sorry. Just…they feel so attached to this place that they don't want to leave, even when they were built for other things. This is exactly why we need someone like Lord Business in the first place. People don't know what's best for themselves._

When his other side finally stopped talking, Bad Cop noticed that something was off. The voices had stopped. Instead, he heard only the clicking of footsteps. These steps weren't approaching, however, but retreating. If he was going to do something about these criminals, he needed to do it now.

He launched himself out from behind his corner and faced down the occupied alleyway with a snarl. He raised his gun and lined it up with the closest figure before he could even take in their appearance. "Freeze, turkeys!"

For a moment, it looked as if all three people obeyed. Both men drew still, and the woman's face froze in fright. Of the three, the woman seemed the most out of place – the auburn ponytail was normal, but the olive pants and jacket seemed better suited for a Dino Island safari. The white-hooded man from earlier was there as well, his hand placed on her shoulder protectively. Now that Bad Cop had a closer look, he could see a set of dark sunglasses peeking out from under the hood.

The remaining man, the one dressed simply in a full-length white shirt and pants, was who Bad Cop had trained his blaster on. Luckily, this also appeared to be the most dangerous member of the group. The man had fallen into some sort of defense stance in the shock, one that looked incredibly natural and practiced. Bad Cop, despite all his training, couldn't pinpoint exactly which style of martial arts the man used. His blonde hair was also styled away from his face, probably in preparation for a fight.

_All the training and preparation in the universe can't deflect a blaster, though._

The man deepened his stance a little before speaking in his clipped, refined voice. "You two, go to the car. I will deal with him."

The woman reached out to him. "But-"

"Go," he repeated. "I am better equipped to fight him for two hours than you are for two seconds."

Clearly, this standoff wasn't going to remain a standoff for much longer. The hooded man began to pull the safari woman away, concern showing from behind his shades. Though she slowly shook her head in horror, she didn't exactly resist his coercion.

Bad Cop, deciding that a change of targets was in order, shifted his gun slightly and aimed it directly at the woman's head. "I said freeze, t-"

_Watch out!_

A blindingly-fast foot clipped him, smashing upwards into his chin. His stunned body stumbled backwards from the force. He tried his hardest to keep a hold of his gun, but less than half a second later, another kick sent it spinning out of his hand.

"Go! Now!" the fighter shouted.

Bad Cop found his footing and shook his head to clear the shock away. Less than a moment of distraction, and his opponent had nearly laid him flat. If he didn't bring his full attention into this fight, he was done for. Even though he knew his other two targets were making a run for it, he couldn't afford to watch them go.

_It's not like we'd be able to follow them anyways._

Another foot swung at his face, but now that Bad Cop was watching, he easily ducked beneath it. His opponent wasn't fazed by this development, allowing his motion to follow through in order to keep his balance. The momentum swung his body in a full circle before he came to a stop, a motion that radiated the foreignness of his fighting style.

Bad Cop tensed like a angry cobra and launched himself at his opponent. The man, however, was incredibly fast, and leapt high into the air before the cop could touch any part of him. Bad Cop rolled with his momentum jumped back to his feet, ready for the counterstrike.

He frantically scanned the alley, searching for his opponent. It took him a moment to spot the man clinging to the alley wall, his hands and feet finding purchase in the cracks between the bricks. The fighter wouldn't have been so difficult to spot if he also wasn't about ten bricks in the air.

_One jump, and he made it all the way up there?_

"Do not look surprised," the fighter acknowledged. "I have trained my entire life to fight people like you." At that moment, he released his grip. Gravity plunged him towards an unprepared Bad Cop.

The cop barely had enough time to leap backwards out of the way. The fighter missed him entirely, instead crashing down on the pavement full-force. This, for once, seemed to catch the opponent off-guard, leaving him in a fairly unguarded crouch. This was a mistake Bad Cop fully intended to take advantage of.

"Trained your whole life?" he grunted as he shot forwards. He swung out his right hand to hook his opponent in the face. "Me too." His blow connected with a tremendous amount of force.

It was like punching a brick wall. The fighter didn't budge an inch, but Bad Cop's wrist joint screamed from the impact. He couldn't stop himself from wincing, and his anger flared when he didn't see so much as a twitch from his opponent. Bad Cop withdrew his arm as his enemy stood back up. The man wasn't even rattled, still as focused and coordinated as the moment they'd started the fight.

Not even taking a moment to recover, the fighter launched two punches in quick succession. Bad Cop, expecting this kind of retaliation, brought up both hands and clamped them around the man's forearms to direct the blows upward.

This seemed to work, at least for a moment. Both figures paused, arms poised over their heads. Bad Cop refused to release his hold, and his opponent made no struggle against it.

Then, the fighter began to stomp forward mechanically, pushing Bad Cop backwards. The cop leaned forward to avoid falling over, but his opponent continued to force him down the alley. He couldn't stop himself from sliding backwards, no matter how hard his feet scrambled for a foothold.

This couldn't go on indefinitely. The fighter eventually slammed Bad Cop back against a wall. He also readjusted their hold, pinning the cop's arms above their heads. Bad Cop struggled and squirmed, but the man's grip didn't so much as budge. His opponent clearly possessed an inhuman level of upper-body strength.

"You are incredibly strong," the fighter remarked. "Unfortunately, I do not think it will do you much good. You see, I was built for situations like this. Built to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"Huh," Bad Cop grunted, still straining against his captor. "So was I."

The man's eyes widened in shock. Bad Cop nearly groaned from the irony. Punching this fighter with all of his strength hadn't earned even the slightest response, but this remark was enough to crack the man's resolve and temporarily weaken his hold.

Bad Cop, in one burst of exertion, wrenched his arms free, leaned back against the wall, and drove a kick into his enemy's midsection. The man fell over backwards, and Bad Cop landed soundly on his torso. This didn't appear to knock the wind out of him, though, which robbed the cop of some satisfaction.

The man twisted about on the ground, forcing Bad Cop to stumble off of him. The fighter launched himself upright in an instant, his eyes narrowed in what could only have been anger.

"Why must you compare the two of us?" the fighter cried out, a spark of emotion finally tinting his voice. "I am nothing like you, nor any of your droids!"

Before Bad Cop could respond, the fighter swung up a fist to give him an uppercut. The action was brutal, fueled by rage, and far too quick to dodge. Bad Cop threw his arms up, intending to block it instead. While this did stop the blow from reaching his face, the force of the attack threw him into the air. He slammed into a wall so hard he saw stars.

He crashed face-first onto the ground, too dazed to even think about getting back up just yet. He blinked a few times, trying to banish the dancing lights and stop the ground from shifting. If he hadn't been wearing this helmet, he might have been knocked out cold.

It slowly dawned on him that he probably wasn't going to win this fight.

_No, we can still do this!_

They were battling a man with an inhuman level of strength, speed, and durability, with obvious training in martial arts on top of it all. How were they supposed to compete with that, even without the concussion?

_If that blur in front of us is what I think it is…_

Bad Cop moaned and squinted, trying to clear his vision. The grayish blob before him slowly came into focus. When he finally recognized it, a wild sense of hope took hold in his chest. Lying directly in front of him, completely forgotten by his assailant, was his gun.

_All the training and preparation in the universe can't deflect a blaster._

Bad Cop chuckled at his good fortune and glanced up to his opponent. "In some ways, you really are like Lord Business's robots."

The fighter shook, barely restraining himself. "How can you say that?"

Bad Cop's hand whipped out, seizing the gun by the handle. "You underestimate me." He raised the barrel and pulled the trigger, shooting to kill.

The vertigo crippled his aim severely. He'd been aiming for the man's torso, but the shot found one of his legs instead. Regardless, Bad Cop was caught off-guard when the force of a small explosion rippled through his body. Smoke instantly filled his vision, and the alley echoed loudly with the blast.

The fighter let out a distorted cry of pain. Bad Cop couldn't see a single thing through the smoke and blurred vision, though he could hear clearly enough to pick up the creaks and clicks of his target slowly limping away. The cop raised the gun again, but the world gave a particularly violent wobble, making him reconsider whether shooting blind through a haze of dizziness was truly a good idea.

_How is he even able to walk? That should have taken his legs off, if not killed him. And where did all the smoke come from?_

He tried to push himself off the ground to chase after the man, but an intense wave of nausea returned him to the pavement.

_Maybe it'll be better if I switch in?_

At this point, Bad Cop didn't have the energy, nor the brainpower, to bother thinking of a better solution.

_Crink._

Good Cop discovered that, in addition to all of his Bad side's symptoms, he also suffered from a frightening degree of tunnel vision accompanied by a ringing in his ears.

"Nnngh, this is worse," he moaned.

_Crink._

Bad Cop grunted and managed to flip himself onto his back. He stared up at the orange-streaked sky, waiting for the world to stop spinning so quickly. Considering the power of the person he'd been fighting, he was lucky to have gotten off so easily. He was definitely concussed, yes, but his enemy was clearly retreating and suffering from far more serious wounds. He strained his hearing, listening to the creaks of the fighter's limp as it faded into the distance.

Even as the rush of battle ebbed away, he couldn't stop a smirk from stealing across his face. He had fought an opponent who was his superior in almost every way, and he had found a way to win regardless. His vision was blurry, the ground was slowly tilting back and forth, and he was stranded in one of the shadiest parts of town, but he'd never felt this empowered in his entire life.

_Um..._

Bad Cop's grin disappeared. His Good side had bad news.

_No, I really don't want to bother you._

He closed his eyes and mumbled, "What is it?"

_Er... We're too concussed to walk. We left our walky-talky in the car, so we can't call any cops, robotic or otherwise, to help us get out of here. This alleyway is so twisty and turny that no one from the main streets can hear or see us. No one knows we're here, and no one will be able to find out until we rest a few hours, heal off the worst of the concussion, and stumble back to the car. Before then, no one's coming to help us._

So, they were going to be stuck here for a while? While this wasn't exactly preferable, he supposed he could live with it. He shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable on the sidewalk.

_And Slider is waiting for us back at the tower._

He suddenly let out an impatient snarl and tried to sit up. A lightning bolt of pain struck his head, making him see nothing but white for a second, and he slumped back to the ground.

After a moment, his Good side spoke up again.

_So… Do you think we can figure out a way to play I Spy?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A few fans of a certain Lego franchise might have connected the dots and are now screaming in fan-fueled glee. Or, maybe you haven't realized the connections yet, and you will begin screaming at some point over the next few chapters. The people who aren't fans of it, though, won't have to worry._
> 
> _I find that there is one big problem with referencing other Lego franchises: you risk alienating readers who do not know much about that particular franchise. This is a serious problem I find in some of the stories on this site. The Lego Movie did a very good job of only using the super-recognizable franchises, such as Batman and Star Wars, in any extensive way. Less-recognizable things, such as Johnny Thunder and Ninjago, were only referenced in passing. This meant that nearly everyone could watch the movie and understand the different plot elements, but fans of the less-famous stuff still felt as if they were being addressed._
> 
> _But, what happens if, like me, an author goes researching for franchise-reference cameos and stumbles upon a character that practically begs to be given an important role in the story?_
> 
> _I hope that my solution to this problem finds a way to satisfy both extremes – obsessive fans of the franchise and people who don't even know that the franchise exists. You don't have to be "in on the joke" in order to enjoy the story I want to tell. If I do my job correctly, you'll still laugh and cry and get all those deliciously potent kicks to the feels regardless._


	6. How to Stop Crime

Two hours of lying semi-helpless in the alley before he could drag himself back to his car. Half an hour of shouting into his walky-talky, trying to get it through his robots' processors that he wasn't well enough to drive himself around. Another half an hour of waiting for a robot to stop by in a police car and pick him up. Two hours in a hospital, getting his concussion checked out. Half an hour of letting the robot drive him back to Octan Tower. An hour more of organizing his Super-Secret Police for that night and sending them off on minor objectives, most notably tracking down the people he'd met that evening.

By the time he left his office, it was past midnight. Half of his turn was gone. Arguing with his robots had left him at his wit's end. Though his vision and sense of balance were back to normal, the concussion had left him with a raging headache that painkillers refused to eradicate. Also, his wrist was still sore from the fight, as he was reminded every time he so much as moved his right hand. On top of it all, there was now a hairline crack in his helmet from when he'd smashed into the wall.

Naturally, Bad Cop was in a worse mood than usual. And, when Bad Cop was in a bad mood, he made darn well sure that everybody knew about it.

"Move Slider to the main interrogation room," he spoke into his walky-talky with clenched teeth. "And so help me, if you let him cause any trouble on your way there, I will tear you to pieces and turn you into a footstool."

"On it, chief," the robot warbled in a higher tone than usual. Most of the robots' emotions were fake simulations, but his experience with the Super-Secret Police told him that their fear was probably real.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," he continued. "If you're late, forget the footstool. Your pieces will go straight into the Abyss."

A frantic squeak came from his walky-talky. "Understood, chief."

Bad Cop tore the radio away and stuck it back to his hip. With a huff, he began the trip to the interrogation room. It wasn't that far away, relatively speaking – only 33 stories up, on the 240th floor. But, considering how much time he had already wasted, he couldn't afford to lose a second more.

_I don't think the robots understand it._

"Understand what?" he grunted.

_Those threats you just made were empty. Most of your threats usually are._

"So?" he growled as he rounded a corner, heading for the nearest flight of stairs. "They work faster when they fear me." The robots seemed to be programmed with only two main directives: obey authority and avoid harm. The robots put more effort into a job where they could fulfill both directives at once.

_I know. Just…you don't have to constantly threaten people to get them to do what you want._

Bad Cop pushed open the door to the stairwell, grumbling as he did so.

* * *

Everything was already set up when he got there. In the observation room, two robots stood attentive at the assortment of lie-detecting equipment and recording devices. Bad Cop made sure to give them each a pointed glare before turning his gaze to the window in front of them. In actuality, it was a one-way mirror, not a window, but it still granted him full view of the main interrogation room. Everything seemed to be in order – the chairs and table were all still in their proper positions, and Slider was securely cuffed to his chair. Good.

When he entered the room for himself, he made a point of slamming the door behind him. This entire room was designed to inspire fear and hopelessness. The dark grey walls barely dampened the harsh, glaring lights from above. The room was thoroughly soundproofed, demonstrating to criminals how truly isolated they were. A few gray chairs stood in various spots around the room, but there was no one to use them.

Bad Cop strode farther into the room, glaring at Slider as he did so. Though the facial-recognition software had been enough for the cameras to track him down, the man looked a little bit different from his profile. The fluffy, black afro was larger, and the man now sported a pair of shades. The a few buttons had been left open near the top of his gray shirt, which had obviously been built for style. His front was a bit scratched up, probably from the scuffle with the robots that morning, but the man's posture and smirk radiated a smug cockiness that made Bad Cop want to punch something.

Slider would have looked at home in some sort of disco dance club. Or, after some hair dye, make-up, and a change of clothes, he could have fit in with the goofy residents of Clown Town. No wonder Lord Business had wanted to put him there.

"You done starin'?" Slider asked bluntly.

_Hmm…_

Bad Cop deepened his scowl. "I have some questions for you. If you want to make it out of this room without any more scratches, you'll answer them."

Slider responded with a blank stare for several seconds. Then, he suddenly burst out laughing, rocking his chair back and forth with the force of it. He stopped barely long enough to wheeze, "Man, that's all you got?" before surrendering to another laughing fit.

Bad Cop's number-one pet peeve was people ignoring him. People staring at him came in second, but laughing at him was a very close third. He slammed his hands down on the table between them, hoping to shock Slider out of his laughter. Unfortunately, the criminal somehow found this gesture hilarious, and he laughed even harder.

_I swear I know that laugh from somewhere…_

This was really not a good time for distractions. He had less than six hours to rake Slider over the coals, and he wanted to make full use of it.

_Sorry._

Slider finally calmed down a little. He shook his head, a gleeful smile plastered onto his face. "Man, you need to chill. It's too late at night to be worrying about this stuff." He gave a thoughtful look into the distance. "If it's even night right now. I dunno. You guys don't have windows in your prisons."

Sensing that Slider was trying to pull the conversation off-topic, Bad Cop leaned over the table and growled, "What were your plans for tonight?"

Slider shrugged. "I dunno. See a movie, meet up with some friends…"

"In the shabby end of town," Bad Cop cut in. "In a suspicious alleyway."

For once, the words hit their mark. Slider's smile almost disappeared. "Aw. You heard about that?"

The officer pressed on. "You are part of an underground criminal organization. They had a meeting this afternoon. What were they planning?"

Slider raised an eyebrow. "What, you really think I'm just gonna tell you?" His smile returned, igniting Bad Cop's annoyance once more. "I'm not gonna betray my buddies just 'cause you asked."

Bad Cop growled. "You're going to tell me, one way or the other – the easy way or the hard way."

Slider snorted. "And the easy way makes it hard on my buddies."

"Your 'buddies' will have it hard no matter what happens." He shifted some of his weight onto the table and slid it a couple studs closer to his captive. "I'm giving you the choice to make this easier for me. Luckily, easier for me is also easier for you."

"Hmm…" Slider leaned back a little, a thoughtful look overtaking him. "Yeah, I'm lost. What was the 'easy way' again? I know the 'hard way' prolly means you'll beat me up. Does the easy way mean you'll let me go?"

After all of that work it took to bring him here? "No." His glare bore into the man's sunglasses.

Slider shook his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Man. Seriously. Learn to lighten up a little! I was making a joke. Maybe we should get a different police officer in here, one who knows what a joke looks like?"

_He wants to talk to me?_

No, this was Bad Cop's turn, and he refused to surrender a second of it. "You might be too cocky to believe this," he said to the criminal. "But my time is valuable. Very valuable. Normally, I'd toss you around the room until told me what I wanted to hear, but I have no time for that today, so I'll ask you again."

He slid the table forward once more, not stopping until it rammed into Slider's stomach. "What was the meeting about? What are your associates planning?"

Slider winced as the table hit him, but he otherwise found a way to remain nonchalant about the whole ordeal. If any fear showed in his eyes, the shades masked it, and his voice was just as casual as always. "What's in it for me if I tell you? What's in it for my buds?"

"A reduced sentence," Bad Cop answered. "If we do things the easy way, you could walk free after only a few years. Make it the hard way…" He rested his hand on the gun at his hip.

Slider tilted his head to get a better view of the threat. "Really? You're gonna shoot me?" He settled back into his seat. "I don't think you can."

The barrel of the blaster jabbed into his face before Bad Cop even thought to raise it.

_Careful!_

The safety was still on, so his other side needn't have worried. The person who was supposed to be worried by this gesture was Slider, but unfortunately, he didn't seem particularly startled at the threat of being shot at. He simply raised an eyebrow, as if daring the cop to follow through with the threat.

Bad Cop clenched his jaw. "You don't think I have the nerve to blow your head across the room?"

Slider gave a small shrug. "Oh, you prolly got the nerve. You just don't got the authority."

_Um, if you could put the gun down…_

Bad Cop tore the blaster away and regrettably stuck it back to his hip. "Authority? I am the chief of police. You are my prisoner. I can do whatever the heck I want with you."

"Nope!" Slider announced with a grin. "You're not 'the' chief of police. You're 'a' chief of police. There's still Good Cop, remember? Something tells me you gotta talk to him about it before you go around shooting prisoners."

Bad Cop was no stranger to anger and all of its nuances. There was the gruff annoyance that sat with him a majority of his time. There was also the fierce frustration that overtook him whenever someone was doing something wrong and he could do nothing to stop it. There was even a special flavor of rage reserved for the people who, like Slider, refused to take him seriously.

The cop felt none of those things. Instead, white-hot irons clamped around his throat and chest. Everything felt strangely distant as he kicked the table into Slider and knocked his chair over backwards. The resulting crash was hollow, faded, like all the sound of the world had fallen away.

He picked the table off the floor, and in one strained motion, he tossed it to the side. Itching for something else to throw, his hands found Slider's shoulders, and he lifted the criminal clear off the floor. The man was still firmly handcuffed to the chair, making him very heavy, but Bad Cop really couldn't care less.

"Easy, man!" Slider protested. How dare that criminal think he had the right to speak! Bad Cop shook him back and forth, rattling him in his cuffs.

_You're not thinking clearly, please calm down!_

How dare his Good side think he had the right to speak, either!

He flung Slider away, aiming for the water cooler near the back of the room. Unfortunately, the weight of the chair made the projectile a tad heavier than anticipated. Slider hit the ground and tumbled for a few bricks before finally barreling into the intended target. The water cooler smashed against the floor, spilling its contents all over the ground.

Slider heaved an agonized cry. One of his arms had yanked free of its cuff during the tumble. Unfortunately, his hand hadn't come with it.

_Oh no, Danny…_

The fire of rage still burned just as hot as before. Seeing the enemy in pain wasn't enough. Seeing him crippled wasn't enough. Seeing him dead, however, might be.

_No! Don't do it!_

Bad Cop raised his gun, trained it on Slider's trembling form, and made a point of flicking off the safety.

_You can't kill him! We, we still need information from him, remember?_

Information that Slider clearly wasn't going to give them. Even though the criminal looked like he was on the verge of passing out, there was still an air of defiance to him as he struggled to keep his body off the wet floor. Bad Cop was going to enjoy putting an end to his sorry existence.

_No, you won't enjoy it, trust me. He wasn't trying to hurt you!_

Bad Cop didn't care.

_If you try to shoot him, I'll switch in, I mean it!_

These words cut through Bad Cop like a knife. His Good side never threatened people, especially not him, and especially not like this.

_If you can't control yourself, then I'll have to do it for you._

Slider finally slumped to the floor, forcing deep breaths to overcome the pain. After a moment, he panted, "You gonna shoot me or what?"

Bad Cop shook, his entire body locked with tension. In the end, Slider was right – Good Cop really did have the final authority over everything. That was why Bad Cop's anger burned hot enough to melt steel. That was why he needed to see Slider dead. Yet, it was also the exact reason why he couldn't kill him.

_Please, please put the gun down now._

He didn't exactly have the coordination at the moment to put the blaster back in its proper place. He settled for dropping it, letting it clatter to the floor.

Even when it was his own turn, he was still under his Good side's thumb. It frustrated him to no end.

_I'm sorry…_

His gaze rounded on Slider, who was somehow still conscious despite what must have been an enormous amount of pain. The criminal gave one glance at the gun on the floor, surprise showing through his grimace. Every part in Bad Cop's body screamed for him to teach the man a lesson he wouldn't live long enough to forget. The cop positively ached with frustration, and someone or something needed to pay for it.

_If you want to threaten him, you can. If you want to punch a wall until it breaks, you can. I just can't… I can't let you hurt people._

So, inanimate objects were fine. Robots were fair game.

_As long as it stops you from taking your anger out on actual people, you-_

Bad Cop interrupted his other side by whirling around and throwing his body against one of the nearby chairs.

_I suppose that works?_

The next few minutes became a haze of intense and yet completely harmless violence. He wrestled with the chair, punched it, threw it across the room, slammed it against a wall, anything to make the pain go away. As the fight drew on, the rush of rage eventually did leave his body, replaced by an empty tiredness. His wrist still protested and his headache raged from the exertion, but he forced himself to press on. His Good side didn't say a word throughout the entire thing.

Eventually, Bad Cop stormed over to the criminal slumped on the floor, holding the chair above his head as he did so. Slider instinctively recoiled from the threat, but he needn't have worried. The cop was too emotionally and physically spent to feel like killing anyone anymore. He did, however, feel the need to make a point.

As Bad Cop came to a stop in front of Slider, the criminal let out a wheezy chuckle. "You spent the last ten minutes beating the stuffing out of a chair?"

Bad Cop's face twitched.

_Ignore him. He's just trying to rile you up._

Oh, Bad Cop had no intent of simply ignoring this man. He let the chair drop, and it landed no more than two studs away from Slider's head. He then kicked the chair away, gaining satisfaction with his opponent's startled expression.

Bad Cop leaned down, getting close enough to feel Slider's breath on his face. "That chair could have been you," the cop said, low and dark. He snatched Slider's detached hand out of its cuff, took a quick glance to check if it was permanently cracked or damaged, and then shoved it into the criminal's face. "You think I would stop at one hand?"

Slider audibly gulped. Good.

Bad Cop let the hand fall to the floor with a clatter. He grabbed the unoccupied arm of Slider's chair, and with a grunt, he wrenched it upright. He stepped back, watching with a scowl as Slider tried to settle back into his seat.

"You've been missing for weeks," Bad Cop said. "No one would blink an eye if you never showed your face again. Your criminal associates know you've been captured, but from what I heard, they're not mounting a rescue mission anytime soon. You're never going to see anyone outside of this building ever again. I don't need to keep you pretty. I don't need to keep you sane. All I need to do is keep you alive."

Bad Cop closed the distance between them and put a hand to Slider's throat. "So, no, I don't have the authority to kill you, but I can make you wish I did."

Slider went stiff and failed to suppress a shudder. Bad Cop guessed that the man's eyes were probably squeezed shut behind those shades.

_Um. Wow. Impressive? I think we're still going to have a problem, though._

Slider took a raspy breath to speak. "Get it over with, man. Beat me up, disassemble me, do whatever. Bring Good Cop in here, I don't care. I'm not gonna talk."

Bad Cop felt the impulsive urge to tear the man's head off, but that desire died before it could reach his tired muscles. He didn't want to open up that can of worms again.

_Danny might joke around a lot, but he's really a devoted and strong person underneath it all. I'm not sure we'll be able to get any information from him, no matter how many badly you threaten him._

The cop froze. How exactly did his Good side know any of this?

_I know it's hard to recognize him with his hair like that. I didn't even connect the dots until I heard his voice. Do you remember our senior year of high school?_

He strained his mind and struggled to reach back that far. Everything was extremely blurry. Which classes had he taken, again? The only thing he was sure of was that he never went to the senior prom. Their turn-based schedule had the tendency to make those kinds of things infeasible.

"Do your worst," Slider coughed, bringing the cop out of his thoughts. "I'm not gonna stab my bro in the back. Not Jane, either."

_Maybe we should talk about this in private, where Danny can't interrupt or overhear?_

Bad Cop drew his hand away. Slider visibly relaxed, but only barely. The cop turned his back on the criminal and strode towards the door, plucking his gun off the floor on the way there. He paused when he reached the doorway.

"You're being watched. If you cause any trouble…" He snapped the gun to his hip for emphasis before leaving the room.

* * *

A few hallways away, Bad Cop finally allowed himself to talk. "What's this about senior year?"

_Danny was in half our classes. We sat together a lot. I think his parents were friends of the family? Maybe? I don't remember most of the details._

He closed his eyes, trying to immerse himself in his memories. He had never experienced any of high school first-hand, considering their schedule, but he was still distressed by how little of it he remembered now. There were some vague memories of working out at various gyms and watching TV. Lots and lots of late-night television, mostly cop shows.

_Anyways, I think Danny wants to talk to me. He's been dropping some hints._

So, what then? His Good side wanted to swap in and have a friendly reunion chat with the guy?

_That's the gist of it, yes._

He instantly felt himself getting defensive. His turn had barely gotten started. Well, actually, it was over halfway gone by now, but he had barely started doing anything worthwhile with it. There was no way he was going to let his Good side swoop in and steal any of that precious time away.

_Even if I pay you back later by letting your turn last longer into the morning?_

No.

_You don't want me to get some information out of your uncrackable victim and then give you the time to act on that information?_

As tempting at that idea sounded, no.

_Are you sure about that?_

"Yes!" he growled. "Stop harassing me about it alrea…" The pieces finally clicked into place. They were doing their routine again. Granted, its nature was a bit reversed this time around, but it was all there – Good Cop offering help, Bad Cop refusing it, Good Cop showing him the benefits of accepting that help, and Bad Cop refusing it all again on principle.

_I just want you to take the time to think about this, but if you really don't want my help, I won't bother you about it anymore._

His Good side was trying to drop the whole argument. Usually, Bad Cop would follow this up with an assortment of venomous insults. Now, however, he didn't feel nearly agitated enough to follow through with that particular portion of the routine. He was frustrated with his other side, yes, but also…

_Conflicted? Guilty?_

"No," he muttered a little too quickly. He knew his Good side wasn't fooled.

_So, you don't want to follow this "arguing" routine anymore. Instead of pushing me away, you want me to step in and help out._

Bad Cop leaned back against a wall. His Good side had painted him into a corner. Well…no, Bad Cop had painted himself into a corner. As he was slowly coming to realize, a lot of his troubles were self-inflicted. Refusing to compromise, giving into his temper, fighting his other side for no reason other than to feel a little less helpless about his circumstances…

Most of his life, he had seen his Good side as an enemy, as someone intent on keeping him chained and contained. After all that had happened today, however, he couldn't be so sure about it. If his other side was truly intent on hurting him, the guy had all the necessary weapons and opportunities. Yet, his Good side had never stooped to utilizing them until Bad Cop had found some of the guy's few sensitive nerves and stomped all over them.

_So, just to be clear: you do want me to step in and handle Danny?_

He closed his eyes and let out a groan. "Yes."

_And you're giving me the permission to do it?_

"Yes."

_Well, great! Can you check the time?_

Bad Cop opened his eyes and glanced along the walls of the hallway. A nearby clock announced that it was only two minutes before one o'clock.

_Good. I'll remember that time, and once we agree to swap you back in, we'll add the difference onto the end of your turn this morning. Deal?_

He sighed. "Deal."

_Crink._

Good Cop gave a bright smile as he began the trip back to the interrogation room. His chest swelled with the hope that maybe this long, tiring, painful day wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all. He could meet up with an old friend, get some information that would help his other side out…

His smile disappeared. Though his other side had supported this turn-breaking plan, there was no doubt that the man still felt terrible about it. His Bad side had just surrendered some of the only control he had over his life, after all. Bad Cop was very much set in his ways, and Good Cop suspected that deviations from their schedule like this would be met with no small amount of insecurity.

"Listen," Good Cop said slowly, trying to condense his thoughts in a way he hoped his other side wouldn't misinterpret. "This was the right choice. Giving me permission to interrupt your turn… You must trust me a lot."

A few seconds of mental silence signaled that his Bad side didn't feel particularly driven to make a response. Odd.

"I can't believe you already forgive me for threatening to steal your turn when you…" His breath hitched. His Bad side was forgiving him for a lot of things today.

_Yeah, yeah. Shut up before you start bawling like a baby. I don't need to forgive you for stopping me from making mistakes, especially when I'm…not thinking straight. You were right, killing Slider would've been a terrible idea._

Good Cop let out a small chuckle. What was the point of being stuck with each other if they didn't keep their other side in check?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Danny Slider can be found in the movie. Just look at the shot where Vitruvius is "sneaking around the corner" in the Think Tank. Many of my other side-characters have also been pulled from various background events and shots._


	7. How to Make Friends

The situation didn't hit him full-force until he physically entered the interrogation room. His Bad side had really done a number on the place – Danny's chair was the only piece of furniture that was still upright. Good Cop's eyes snagged on Danny's stump of an arm, and the resulting spike of distress drove all other thoughts from his mind. He almost forgot to close and lock the door behind him.

He was surprised at how much Danny's strained face managed to light up when he entered. "Goodie, buddy," the man spoke. He sounded so relieved, but there was no denying the ragged edge to his voice. "I didn't think you'd be up so late."

Good Cop's chest was almost too tight to breathe. "Yeah…" His guilty eyes strayed downwards. If he'd calmed his Bad side down sooner, or if he'd just had the courage to swap in as soon as his other side had really lost all control over his actions, maybe Danny wouldn't be in so much pain.

He noticed Danny's hand on the floor, lying exactly where Bad Cop had dropped it. The sight of it broke through some of the tension inside his body, and he quickly dashed forward to snatch it off the ground. He held it up to Danny, trying to figure out how to proceed without having to look at the horrible, empty space where he knew the hand was supposed to go.

"Let me," Danny offered, his usually boisterous voice gone soft.

Good Cop hesitantly passed the hand over to its rightful owner. He squeezed his eyes shut to avoid watching Danny put it back in the slot, and he twitched a little as he heard it snap back into place. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Danny twisting his wrist back and forth, checking to make sure that everything was back to working order.

Danny sighed, most of the stress in his posture dissolving. "Man, that feels a lot better. Bad Cop can really do a number on people, am I right? For a moment there, I thought the guy was gonna off me."

A nervous, apologetic grimace forced its way onto Good Cop's face. "Yeah. He gets like that sometimes."

Danny's smile was finally back, making Good Cop's mind resonate with familiarity. Danny must have smiled quite a lot when they were friends. "I knew Baddie was ruthless, but I had no clue the guy was so high-strung. How do you put up with a partner like that?"

Good Cop found himself mimicking his friend's grin, and he gave a shrug. "Compromises."

_Ha ha. Funny._

"So, uh…" Danny sunk back in his chair a little, obviously nervous. "I really wanna have a chat with you, you know? But I don't wanna havta deal with the cameras."

Good Cop took a moment to think, trying to understand the situation from his friend's point of view. Danny likely saw him as a potential ally for that criminal organization, but he wanted to keep that plan a secret from Lord Business, and for good reason. Once Danny was brought to a safe, unmonitored place, he would probably try to recruit Good Cop. Who better to have as an ally than the chief of police?

_That doesn't make a lick of sense, and you know it._

True, things didn't quite fit together once Bad Cop entered the equation, but there was really no better explanation. Danny clearly wasn't trying to escape – there were over two-hundred floors of robots between here and the exit, so any escape attempts would be pointless. Plus, he was quite literally in the middle of enemy territory, so performing any illegal actions would be equally as stupid. Danny was a joker, but he wasn't an idiot.

_So, what, you're going to pull him out of the interrogation room and take him somewhere without cameras?_

That looked like the smart course of action, yes. How else were they going to hear what Danny wanted to say?

_'Smart'? This isn't 'smart'. You're insane._

Huh. He'd been so sure that his Bad side was through with those kinds of petty insults.

_I…you…I'm not doing this to insult you, I'm trying to stop you from being a moron!_

"You okay, man?" Danny spoke up.

Good Cop realized that he'd been staring off into the distance for quite some time. He shook the blank look off of his face. "Sorry. I was thinking of somewhere to take you."

Danny's expression visibly relaxed. "That's great! You got a place in mind?"

Good Cop, noticing that one of Danny's arms was still restrained, began fiddling with the appropriate handcuff. "Yes, actually, I do. It's not that far away, either."

* * *

"You have a weird definition of 'far away'," Danny wheezed as he descended the last steps of the flight. "How do you deal with it, going up and down these stairs all the time?"

Good Cop checked over his shoulder to make sure his friend was still following and continued down the hallway. "You get used to it. Plus, the elevator stops at the 200th floor, which isn't too far from here." Even so, he was immensely grateful for all the training his Bad side had done over the years. Though the martial arts and gunmanship didn't carry over, the strength and fitness certainly did.

"You're sure this place doesn't have any cameras?" Danny asked. "And it's not mic'ed?"

"Nope! No cameras, no microphones, no surveillance at all," Good Cop replied cheerfully. He came to a stop in front of a very particular black door, waiting for Danny to catch up. "It's one of the perks of being the guy in charge."

Good Cop stepped into his office and held the door open so his friend could enter behind him. Danny paused at the doorway, leaning against the frame as breath blew in and out of him. Losing a hand and reattaching it must have taken a lot out of him. That, and he probably hadn't eaten anything all day.

_I was trying to soften him up, make the interrogation go easier._

Regardless, Good Cop plucked the walky-talky off his hip and held it near his head. "Good Cop requesting a delivery inside Octan Tower," he spoke, automatically switching to a more professional tone of voice.

After a moment, he heard the reply. "Yes, chief?" came the buzz of a robot. This was no surprise at all, as robots handled almost all of the menial labor jobs in Octan Tower these days.

"Can you deliver a pizza to my office?" he requested. "Actually, make it two. The usual, please."

"On it, chief," was the robot's response.

As Good Cop put the radio away, he heard Danny snickering from his position in the doorway. "'Chief'? Man, it's just so weird to see you living up to your last name."

Good Cop gave a shrug. "It runs in the family, I suppose." He gave a soft giggle at his little joke.

_Ugh. You two make me sick to our shared stomach._

"But really, though," Danny continued. He abandoned the support of the doorframe and stepped fully into the room. "You, a police officer? With your geeky glasses, constant smile…man, you're the most lighthearted guy I know. Even your parents look serious compared to you. How you got to be police chief under someone like Lord Business is way beyond me."

Good Cop thought of mentioning his job interview with Business and the robot wreckage that ensued, but bringing it up felt so…wrong, somehow. Though his memories of the past were fuzzy, he was fairly certain that he had never mentioned Bad Cop to anyone at school. The pair of them had led very separate lives at that point, and it was usually easier to pretend they were two independent people rather than try to explain their situation.

"I suppose I was just destined to be here," he said finally. "My parents told me about the job posting only a few days before I was deported. After that, everything just kind of fell into place."

A look of worry suddenly flashed across Danny's face. "Business deported you out of the countryside?"

"Well, yes," Good Cop nervously replied. "How else would I get the clearance to move into the city?"

Danny staggered forward, still a little weakened from his recent ordeal, and stuck a hand to the cop's shoulder. "So, Business told you to move away from your parents, and you did what he said?"

Good Cop hesitated, discomfort welling up inside of him. Whatever was making Danny so concerned, it had to be very serious. "Of course. You don't expect me to live in their basement my entire life, do you?"

Danny's worry didn't seem to weaken at this answer. In fact, it appeared to get even worse, nearing a flat-out panic. "But you still remember me, right? And all the stuff we did together? Your boss didn't take that away, did he?"

Good Cop's chest seized up again. Danny wanted so badly to trust him, even when he had every reason not to. It made the cop's throat go tight, but he knew what he had to say. "Of course I remember everything! Why wouldn't I?" It hurt a little to lie, but there was some comfort in knowing it was the right thing to do.

Danny blew out a sigh and stepped back a little. His concern was gone, replaced by some shaky variation of relief. "Okay. Okay, that's good," he mumbled. "Sorry for scaring you like that, man. I had to make sure, you know?"

"I get it," Good Cop said, making his voice as warm and comforting as possible. It pained him to see Danny like this – shaken, wounded, and clearly supporting more worries than he was capable of bearing. For once, Good Cop was in a position to fix that, he would hold nothing back. He continued talking, pulling hazy bits from his memories as he went. "I don't know why you broke contact with me after we graduated. I don't know how you got involved with the people Bad Cop is hunting. But, we were – still are, best friends. Business can't do a thing to change that."

_I can't believe you'd say something so sappy. This is pointless._

But it wasn't pointless. As Good Cop spoke, Danny's posture almost imperceptibly straightened. The last bits of guardedness in his expression faded, and a smile chased out all of his previous worries. This happiness was all Good Cop's doing. And, just as importantly, this was a sign that he finally had Danny's complete and total trust.

A warped electrical tone, almost like a whistle, sounded from the doorway. Good Cop's head snapped to the source, but his surprise died the moment he saw the robot. The delivery bot held its flat, square-shaped pizza box tiles up a little higher. "Delivery for Good Cop?"

* * *

The next hour or so of conversation wasn't particularly productive. As they ate, they made small talk, discussing how the local sports team was doing and which television shows were airing. Danny adamantly opposed any of the shows Octan funded, claiming that they were nothing but pure propaganda for President Business's empire.

"That can't all be true," Good Cop quietly interrupted. "What about the comedy shows, like  _Everybody Loves Blocky_? How could there be propaganda in that?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Danny replied. "It takes a bit of reading in between the lines to see it sometimes. You see the episode with the maple syrup and the track star? Should've come out a few weeks ago."

Good Cop shook his head and gave another nibble on the pizza tile in his hands. It was a little awkward to eat while standing, but Danny definitely needed the chair more than he did. "Since I started this job, I haven't had much time for television." Or had any time for it at all, really. "The job keeps me pretty busy."

"Really?" Danny set his own pizza tile down on the desk and leaned forward in his chair. "What about the radio? You listen to that at all?"

Good Cop shook his head again. Unfortunately, he couldn't allow himself to get distracted on his patrols, and the radio music as of late was turning out to be a bit of a problem in that regard.

"That's good. Keep doing that," Danny told him. "Business's songs are catchy, but they're trash. They all sound the same. It'd break my heart to see you get caught up in their hype. It's got no soul, you know?"

After that, their conversation turned to Good Cop's work. Danny seemed legitimately pleased to learn that Good Cop had no part in managing the robotic Super-Secret Police. Instead, the cop talked about coordinating his human officers to shut down more out-in-the-open threats, such as bank robberies and that sea serpent from yesterday.

"So, you two do completely different jobs, but you still share an office?" Danny said, glancing around the room. "Must be rough."

Good Cop had to admit, sharing that office was a little more difficult than he'd expected it to be. Bad Cop had reserved their entire corkboard for a map of the city, filling it with notes and sketches related to the recently-solved Slider case. This had forced Good Cop to put his own things up on the adjacent wall space. His hangings mostly amounted to traffic maps of various Lego worlds and the occasional drawing a child handed to him when they saw him on patrol.

_In other words, things that don't matter nearly as much as tracking down a dangerous criminal._

The end result was a bizarre collection of art and hastily-scribbled traffic patterns swarming around Bad Cop's focused, determined search plans. The overall effect was less than elegant, but Good Cop thought it made an interesting statement about how the nature of their partnership.

"It's a little annoying sometimes," Good Cop admitted. The hardest part was sharing a desk – half a desk wasn't quite large enough for either one of them. They'd avoided any major territory disputes up until now, but the disorganized pile of traffic ticket receipts on Good Cop's side was now large enough to threaten spilling into his Bad side's far more organized half.

Danny, after drinking in the silence for a while, opened his mouth again. "Okay, we gotta get rid of the elephant in the room. Are you and Baddie related somehow?"

_Uh._

Luckily, the question was so unexpected that Good Cop didn't fully register it at first. Instead of completely descending into shock or panic, he had a split second to clamp down on those responses and shut them down before they could start. Related? Of course they were related. They had the same…

But Danny clearly didn't know that.

_You never did tell him about me._

"I thought it was obvious," Good Cop remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Most of my buddies thought it was," Danny replied. "What with the shared last name. It's Irish, right?"

Good Cop nodded. "Yes, 'Cop' is Irish."

So, Danny had no clue that his best friend shared a body with his worst enemy. And, if Danny didn't know, there was a very good chance that none of his buddies knew, either.

"I couldn't be sure about it, though, 'cause your parents never talked about him," Danny continued. "So, how're you guys related, then?"

Good Cop took another nibble on his pizza. If that criminal organization really believed the two of them were separate entities, this opened up a whole new world of possibilities. Espionage, subterfuge, maybe even-

_We need to concentrate at the situation at hand. Slider doesn't know our…situation, and we should plan to keep it that way._

Good Cop supposed that, at this point, it was better to maintain the charade rather than work out ways to utilize it. He had plenty of time plan things later. "We're cousins," he said to Danny casually. "Second cousins, I think? The family doesn't like to talk about him."

Danny snorted. "Yeah, I bet. The guy's one wrong word away from completely losing it."

_Say that to my face, pal, and I'll show you exactly how much I could make you lose instead._

"He's easier to deal with once you get to know him," Good Cop said softly. "Sure, he's gruff sometimes. He likes picking fights, and he doesn't forgive people easily. But, underneath everything, he's still a person."

Danny scoffed, putting his feet up on Bad Cop's side of the desk. This knocked over one of the two piles of papers and sent the other one into complete disarray.

_The disrespectful little-_

Danny's voice cut in on Bad Cop's silent insult. "Sure, Bad Cop's a person. Big deal. He's a person who spent the last month doing nothing but chasing me. He's a person who took my hand off. He's a person who almost killed me. Sue me if I think the guy needs to go on some meds."

The cop waited for his Bad side to make some sort of angry remark at this. Oddly enough, there was silence.

Good Cop knew he needed to take advantage of this good fortune while he had it, so he used the silence to chose his words carefully before responding to Danny. "Bad Cop might do some bad things, but when it all comes down to it, he wants the same things as all of us. Recognition, safety, accomplishment…"

Danny hastily pulled his feet off the desk, sending some of the papers to the floor, and swiveled the chair to face his friend. Good Cop felt a flicker of nervousness at the downright annoyed look on the man's face. "Seriously, man, why are you standing up for that lunatic?"

"I'm not," the officer said quickly.

Perhaps he'd said it too quickly. Danny's expression quickly became unreadable behind his dark shades. With a dreadful plunging sensation, Good Cop realized that he'd just lost a portion of the trust he had spent the last hour or so working to build back up.

The nature of Good Cop's job meant that he was constantly surrounded by people – civilians, other officers, occasionally the arrested criminals – but he'd never had a chance to form friendships with any of them. His job left him too busy. Tonight, for once, was a chance to sit down and talk with someone like a friend. Nights were usually a time when Good Cop could do nothing but sit back and watch his Bad side make other people suffer, but now, Good Cop could work to make someone happy instead.

He couldn't stand to see Danny get cut off from him again. It would hurt both of them far too much.

"I'm not supporting him," Good Cop said carefully. "I'm just saying that it's possible to understand him. You can learn how he operates, and there are a lot of good reasons for doing so."

Danny crossed his arms. "Like what?" He raised an eyebrow above the top of his shades.

"Well…" He prayed that his Bad side would forgive him for what he was about to say.

_Forgive you…?_

"If you can learn what sets off his temper and why it makes him angry, you'll never get on his bad side," Good Cop began. "You can tell him everything he wants to hear. You can make him like you, make him desperate to be friends with you."

Good Cop let those ideas sink in for a moment. Danny, as expected, was speechless, his face completely blank with shock. The implications of the cop's words were huge, after all, even if they were entirely misdirection on Good Cop's part.

Once the officer deemed that his friend had been given enough time to absorb it all, he pressed on. "You can make him want to trust you, and when that happens, you can control him. You can delay him from, say, interrupting a secret meeting in the shabby area of town. You can give the people there the time to see him coming and the chance to escape."

_You…!_

Good Cop felt a heavy thud in the back of his head. His Bad side had just tried to seize control, and understandably. Good Cop's usual grip of dominance rendered such attempts useless, but the message was clear. His other side only resorted to those kinds of measures in extreme circumstances. In other words, his Bad side was absolutely furious at him.

In contrast, Danny's guardedness began to crack, and a hopeful smile shown through. "You mean… You stopped Baddie from capturing them?"

Good Cop leaned against the wall of his office, his heart a bit lighter now that Danny showed some signs of trust again. "Not directly, and not as well as I hoped, but yes."

Danny let out a humongous breath and slumped in the chair out of nothing less than pure, giddy relief. "Oh man. You have no idea how good it feels to know you're keeping them safe. Jane and Hip, they're my only real family anymore, you know?"

_Oh, boo hoo. Take your sob story to someone who cares._

"What happened to them?" Good Cop asked innocently. "Your family, I mean. Did they get deported?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah. Even worse. They wanted me to go along with it all. Wanted me to let myself get deported, to leave them all behind and go live in Clown Town instead."

Good Cop could almost feel sympathetic. His own parents had been similarly enthusiastic about moving him out, excited to see him moving on and finding his own place in the world. People were not built to be tied down to their family, though, even if people like Danny sometimes wanted to remain attached.

"I'm sure they only wanted what was best for you," Good Cop murmured. "I mean, to them, you only had two choices: go to Clown Town or get arrested. I don't think they wanted to see you in the back of a police truck."

Danny's breath hitched in the middle of starting a response. After a moment, he half-heartedly swiveled his chair back to the desk and picked up his pizza. "No one should havta make a choice like that," he mumbled.

Good Cop couldn't help but frown. No, no one should be pressured to make that kind of decision. Something must have been wrong with the justice system if someone like Danny felt compelled to break the law and cut himself off from society for weeks on end.

Maybe Business could implement some sort of counseling service to help people get accustomed to moving away from all of their families and friends. Or, perhaps they could work out a plan to help people like Danny communicate with their families after they moved. Communication across the different Lego worlds was usually very restricted, but he was sure some exceptions could be made if it stopped cases like Danny's from popping up.

_Those ideas could never work. You're being too soft on criminals that deserve to rot._

Really? Since when was being friendly a bad thing? Being friendly with Danny had gotten them infinitely farther than being threatening.

_Even if you could find a way to make them work, they're never going to happen. We enforce the law. We don't make policy._

He supposed that he could make some suggestions to Business, but he doubted his boss would truly listen to them. Business was incredibly busy, and he probably didn't have time to consider the thoughts of someone who had no experience with politics.

"I just wish there was some way I could help," he sighed.

Danny suddenly froze in the middle of chewing a bite of pizza. He carefully swallowed, turned to face his friend, and and slipped a sly grin onto his face. "You know what? I'm pretty sure you can."

Good Cop, a bit taken aback, stood up off of the wall and narrowed his eyes in confusion. "How?" He was fairly sure his friend wasn't talking about anything Good Cop had thought about in his private conversation.

Danny snickered, obviously amused by Good Cop's cluelessness. "You've got more power than you know," he said. "All the human police officers answer to you. Sure, all the robots answer to Baddie, but like you were saying, you've got ways to control him. Lord Business can make all the laws he wants, but you're the only way he's got to enforce them."

Good Cop put a hand to his chin. "I never thought of it that way."

Danny continued, "You're in a position to change things, man. You're the linchpin to Business's empire. If you did the right kinds of things, you could bring this whole tower down."

The look of excitement on Danny's face was so infectious that Good Cop couldn't help but smile and straighten up a little. "You really think so?"

Danny stood up from his chair and rested a hand on Good Cop's shoulder. "Man, I know so. With your help, we could take Business down in three days. A week, tops."

It felt like a bulb lighting up in Good Cop's mind. Danny's group wasn't a criminal organization in a traditional sense – it was a resistance movement. This threw a lot of things into a new light – the missing deportees, the meeting in the alleyway, why Danny had wanted to recruit Good Cop in the first place…

A handful of half-formed thoughts and ideas in Good Cop's head suddenly collided and coalesced. The result was a plan, one that would help out both him and his Bad side. If it succeeded, it would help them both learn so much. On top of it all, his Bad side would also be able to capture some very tricky criminals.

_Wait, what? Slow down, you're thinking too fast._

Unfortunately, he didn't exactly have the time to consult with his Bad side. If he wanted his plan to have the full effect, he needed to put it into motion while his friend was still excited.

"I'm in," he said. "Whatever resistance movement you're involved with, consider me a part of it."

_Are you kidding me?_

"Really?" Danny grinned. "Wow. I didn't think you'd be so-"

"Decisive?" Good Cop cut in. "No. Normally, I wouldn't be. But, I've been thinking about this for a long time. Since before I started working here, in fact." Not entirely a lie – the scheme he was currently enacting was a variation of the "Master Builder" plan he'd invented during that interview all those weeks ago.

_Becoming a mole in the resistance movement? Really? That's the most senseless plan I've ever seen you come up with._

It was alright that his Bad side didn't understand the full reach of his plan yet. His other side really had no head for patience or subtlety.

Good Cop continued in his conversation with Danny. "Lord Business needs to be stopped. This seems like the best way to do it. You guys already have a plan to take him down, right?"

At this, Danny backed away a little and glanced insecurely off to the side. "Nah, not what you'd expect. I mean, we got the resources, but not much in the way of leadership, y'know?"

So, the resistance movement did have some members in powerful places, but the overall group was either too disorganized or too spread out to make much use of it. Good to know. "That's alright," Good Cop assured. "We have time to figure something out. How many people are a part of it, again?"

Danny shrugged. "Not many. A couple hundred spread across the different worlds. Most of them are too busy dealing stuff from their home worlds to bother helping us out in Bricksburg. But, I'm thinking that cases like yours are more common that we thought. If we work carefully, we can get thousands on our side in just a few months."

Good Cop, suddenly curious and a tad nervous, gave a small frown. "'Cases like mine'?"

Danny waved a hand at him dismissively. "Don't worry about it. The guys'll get you up to speed when I take you to one of the meetings. There's a gathering for all the Bricksburg agents in a couple days, actually. You think you can break me out before then?"

This was definitely not part of the plan. Good Cop wasn't sure if his boss would even let him attend any of those resistance-movement meetings, but breaking someone out of jail was completely out of the question. Luckily, Good Cop was able to convert some of his nervousness into a sorrowful grimace. "Actually, I don't think I could break you out of here."

_Congratulations. That's the smartest choice you've made all day._

Night?

_Whatever._

Danny's hopeful expression slipped a little bit. "You can't get me out of this madhouse?"

Good Cop struggled to find the right words. The ideas came along easily enough, but he couldn't figure out how to say them without disappointing his best friend. "Bad Cop is going to watch you like a hawk. I stayed up for hours waiting for a chance to talk to you, and even then, it's only because he took your hand off and he still couldn't break you. I can pull his strings sometimes, but he doesn't trust me totally yet."

As Good Cop talked, Danny seemed to settle down a little. He spoke up, "Man, I get it. I'm on thin ice with him, and since you cut in on his interrogation time, you're on thin ice too."

Good Cop nodded. "I wish I could help you, but-"

"Man, you're helping enough already. 'Sides, once we take this place down, I'll be free anyways."

The cop's eyes strayed to the floor. "I guess."

The conversation lulled for a second, and Good Cop worked to radiate a sense of disappointment. It wasn't difficult, seeing as the entire situation was more than a bit tragic. What had driven someone like Danny to get involved with a resistance movement? Treason was one of the highest crimes in the empire. Even though capital punishment was outlawed, Danny was still looking at a life sentence in the most secure prison in the universe. Danny, in all his fun-loving nature, would only suffer in that kind of environment.

A few wayward ideas sparked in his mind. Maybe they could get a prisoner rehabilitation program going, one that would help show people like Danny the error of their ways so the police could eventually release them back into the world.

_Deportation counseling? Prisoner rehabilitation? Are you seriously trying to make my job obsolete?_

Actually, those kinds of programs would probably make more work for a police chief in the long run, monitoring potential subjects for the programs and all that.

_Not the kind of job I was built for._

"Hey, cheer up, man," Danny spoke up, breaking through the silent conversation. "I'm stuck here, but that doesn't mean you can't go to the meeting in my place. It might get a bit tricky, though."

Good Cop raised an eyebrow at him. "Tricky?"

"Yeah," Danny replied. "We don't have a location set up yet. At least, we didn't have one before Bad Cop snagged me. Hip should've found a place tonight, but I have no clue where it is."

"Oh." Good Cop began chewing his lower lip, trying to puzzle out a solution to this problem. "And none of your buddies trust me enough to tell me where it is…"

"Actually, there's a way around that," Danny said. "We use it when we talk to members from the other worlds. I mean, there's hundreds of us, you can't expect us to recognize everyone. So, we've got a little password thing we do."

Good Cop almost fell over in shock. He'd expected it to take days before he could get Danny to trust him with that kind of information. A password that could get anyone from within the resistance movement to trust him was an incredibly useful tool.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Danny wasn't moving. He was smiling, yes, but clearly frozen in place. Good Cop gave a concerned, "What's wrong?"

Danny spoke, but he kept his teeth clenched in their smile as he did so. "Part of the password. When you think you see someone from the resistance, you look at them and freeze. Then, they ask if something froze you like that, which is when you say, 'My body is frozen, but my mind is always free'."

It seemed a little quirky for a standard password exchange, but not overly so. "My body is frozen, but my mind is always free," he repeated, shrugging it off a little. "Okay. I can remember that. Is there-"

He was cut off by a startling ring from his walky-talky. For a moment, he panicked. Who would want to call him at this hour of the night?

_It's probably a report from one of my robots._

He couldn't answer it, then, without blowing his cover wide open. His hand dove for the radio, and he fiddled with it for a few seconds before he was sure it was turned off. His breath coming more quickly than usual, he gave his friend a nervous glance. "I think that was Bad Cop," he quickly lied.

Danny frowned. "Is he coming up here? How long do we got?"

Good Cop was immensely thankful that a nervous panic was the exact appropriate response for this situation. "I don't know. A few minutes?"

"Okay. We got this." Danny held out a hand. "Gimme your pizza. You go out there and stall him for a few minutes, and I'll hide the food so he doesn't think you got sympathetic and fed me."

Another thud from the back of his head almost made Good Cop jump out of his skin. The attempt to seize control didn't worry him too much, but it still left him baffled. What would bring it about at this point in the conversation? It made no sense.

_It's the only way I have to make you listen to me._

What, trying to seize control? Those kinds of actions shouldn't be made lightly.

_Maybe if you listened to me every once and a while, I wouldn't have to resort to this._

Good Cop couldn't listen to his Bad side, talk with Danny, and maintain the charade all at the same time. The two of them would talk in the hallway outside of the office.

The response to this was another heavy thud, which Good Cop did his best to ignore. After a second of forcing himself to calm down, he decided to go along with Danny's plan and passed his pizza over. "That's…a very good idea, actually. Thanks."

Danny grabbed the food, lazily shaking his head. "Not as good as some of yours, man. Remember the senior prank, what you did with the gym? Classic!"

Good Cop just smiled and giggled softly, backing towards the door. He had no idea what his friend was talking about, though some corner of his mind had the vague impression that it had something to do with parakeets. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'll try to talk with you again as soon as I can."

Danny plopped down into the chair. "No rush, man. Just keep working away at Bad Cop. Maybe you can even put in a good word for me?"

Good Cop turned towards the door, finding the doorknob before glancing over his shoulder. "I'll try!"

He left without so much as another word. He even put some distance between himself and the office, getting far enough away so Danny wouldn't pick up on any part of the heated conversation Good Cop knew was inevitable. When he reached the outside of the stairwell, another thud from his Bad side made him believe that this was a good enough place to stop and talk.

"Is something wrong?" he whispered.

_Oh, like you even need to ask._

Alright, so there was definitely something wrong. His Bad side was still furious at him. "Everything I said about controlling you was a lie. You know that, right?"

_But you do control me._

"Not like that!" He sighed. "I don't want to manipulate you into doing what I want. That's not the kind of partnership I want to have with you. I want the two of us to be equals."

_So long as you're the dominant personality, that's never going to happen._

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "I can still try."

This seemed to silence his other side for a few seconds. Unfortunately, a few seconds wasn't very long.

_That's not the only reason I'm angry at you._

Good Cop opened his eyes once more. "Okay, then. Tell me: why else are you mad at me?" It probably had something to do with his Bad side's vehement disapproval of his plan to become a mole inside the resistance.

_Bingo. Give the man a prize._

"What's wrong with it?" he asked innocently.

_Everything. It's pointless, it's risky, and there's no way Business would let you do it._

Really? Being a mole looked like it was working out beautifully so far. After a few more sessions with Danny and some of his buddies, they would have enough information to take the entire movement down from the inside. Then, they could put some infrastructure in place to prevent a similar movement from rising up in the future.

_Business would never let you be so soft on the enemy._

On the contrary, Good Cop was very sure that Business would heartily approve of the entire thing. The man knew how important it was to be friendly and adaptive to the needs of the citizens.

_That doesn't stop the entire operation from being extremely dangerous._

"My officers do sting operations all the time," he countered.

_But nothing as huge as this. We're the police chief, and you want us to dive defenseless into the enemy's hands._

It wouldn't have to be dangerous, though, if they used the information Danny had given them.

_That's assuming that everything Slider told us was true._

Good Cop would bet his life that Danny had given them mostly accurate information. First of all, they had been best friends in high school, if those kinds of things ever amounted to anything. Second of all, Danny really had no reason to lie. By all appearances, Good Cop had let himself be successfully manipulated into joining the resistance. A willing accomplice was infinitely more useful than a stubborn hostage, as his hoped his Bad side was coming to understand.

_You trust Slider too much._

Good Cop gave a pause. "Is that what this is really all about?"

_Most of it, yes._

He took a deep breath. It was all starting to come into proper focus now. "You hate Danny."

_I hate all criminals._

"But you hate Danny more than you'd normally hate most criminals," he pointed out.

_So?_

He hesitated a little, wondering how his Bad side would react, before deciding that the words needed to be said. "You hate Danny because I'm friends with him."

A second of tense silence told Good Cop all he needed to know.

_That…that has nothing to do with it! So what if you charmed that filthy criminal with your smile and your annoying sense of humor? I threatened him! I scared him! I made him desperate to find someone who would protect him! So what if he picked you?_

Good Cop grimaced. He'd known that his other side was resentful, but perhaps he hadn't realized exactly how deep that resentment ran. Good Cop must have opened up some very old wounds.

_Besides, it's not like you're the only one that can charm people into trusting them. What about Slider? You trusted him enough to leave him alone in our office!_

Alone in an office that was hundreds of feet away from any source of help or safety. Sure, Danny liked to think big sometimes, and he was occasionally a little too cocky for his own good, but he would never be stupid enough to try anything all the way up here.

A tremendous crash made Good Cop's entire body freeze still. It obviously came from the direction of his office, but that wasn't the most worrying part. It was clearly too loud to be from any tipped filing cabinet. A few robots in the hall stopped in their work, glancing towards the source of the noise.

_See, what did I tell you?_

He raced back down the hallway, his motions fueled by pure anxiety. Gosh, he hoped his friend wasn't trying to do something stupid. The robots pressed themselves against the wall as he passed, and he made it to his door faster than he would normally think possible.

"Danny?" he panted, putting a hand to the doorknob. "What are you doing in there?"

He stepped through the doorway, or to be more accurate, he attempted to step through. Unfortunately, he didn't notice that the entire floor was gone until it was too late. He gave a startled yelp and plummeted down to the story below, flailing in midair. He landed on his back, and the impact made his headache give a dangerous, sickening throb.

"Goodie?" came a muffled voice as he tried to sit up.

He blinked, not exactly sure if what he was seeing was a result of hitting his head again. He was obviously in some sort of meeting room, but there were several things wrong with it. The table in the center was gone, and the black chairs had all been thrown against the wall. The entire ceiling was also gone, but Good Cop had already been thoroughly acquainted with that fact.

In the space where the table was supposed to be was what looked like a half-built tank. After a moment of observation, Good Cop realized that it was built out of the floor he had just fallen through. Sturdy white bricks and tiles made up the armored white outside. He thought he could see bits of the black table in the half-formed chassis. The barrel of the tank was probably some gray piping that had originally snaked through the floor.

Danny quickly poked his head out through the hole at the top. His previous state of jovial relaxation was completely gone. Instead, his face was etched with panic. "Goodie, uh…"

Good Cop stood up carefully, never once taking his eyes off the tank. It didn't appear to be operational just yet, and it was missing both sets of treads. However, the creation was easily three times as tall as a man. There was no way a normal person would be capable of putting such a large and complicated vehicle together in such a short time. Good Cop's shoulders felt heavy with dread.

"Danny… You're a Master Builder?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This double-long chapter took twice as much time as usual. That should be fair, right?_
> 
> _This chapter was originally supposed to be much, much shorter. However, I couldn't resist the urge to develop on the relationship between Good Cop and Danny Slider. Then there's the relationship between Bad Cop and Slider, not to mention some back-and-forth between the two cops…and some worldbuilding…yeah. There really wasn't a good place to break it up._
> 
> _But, hey, the lighthearted dialogue of this chapter hopefully serves to balance out some of the gritty drama from the last one. Plus, you gotta love the dramatic irony. Sorry about the cliffhanger, though._


	8. How to Catch a Crook

No one said a word as Danny climbed out of the top of the vehicle, carefully stepped across its white, armored top, and took a seat on the closest corner of the tank. If there was one word to describe the look on Danny's face, it was "turmoil". Guilt, uncertainty, and frustration all warred for expression, making it difficult for Good Cop to figure out what his friend was thinking.

_This situation would be a whole lot easier to deal with if you hadn't just blown our cover._

Good Cop shifted his posture a little, trying to project more confidence than what he was currently feeling. He hadn't blown any part of their cover, he was sure of it.

_'You're a Master Builder?' Really, was there any clearer way to tell him you didn't already know that about him?_

His eyes dropped to the floor. Everything his Bad side had said was true, but he still couldn't connect the dots. Danny had never told them that he was a-

_No, we just don't remember him telling you. You two were best friends. He would have told you about it at some point._

And if they just clearly demonstrated that they didn't remember that event, that would mean that Good Cop had lied to Danny about remembering everything, and their entire story crumbled from there.

_Exactly._

Good Cop glanced up to his friend, a thousand different apologies buzzing through his head. As soon as his eyes rested on Danny's sorrowful expression, however, the words died on his lips. How could he possibly salvage this friendship after everything that had happened?

His thoughts were interrupted when Danny cleared his throat. "Look, man, I'm really sorry. About everything. I should have told you about…" He gave a hesitant, sweeping gesture to the tank he was sitting on. "All this stuff, at some point. It's just, it's not something I can bring up in normal conversation, you know?"

Good Cop could do nothing but stare in disbelief. Was his friend honestly making an attempt to salvage things?

Danny seemed to take this silence as an invitation to continue. "There was just so much propaganda and hate in the media, in the news stories and stuff during high school, against the Master Builders. My bro kept telling me I couldn't let anyone know about our talents, not even you, or we'd both get blacklisted. I wanted to tell you, honest, but…" He sighed. "I didn't want you to be the guy to report me."

Somehow, this was even worse. Good Cop should have felt relieved that his cover was still firmly in place. However, any relief was easily overshadowed by the revelation that Danny had kept such a massive secret from him all these years. Despite all the good times and happy memories they must have shared, Danny still didn't trust him. As soon as Good Cop turned his back for two minutes, Danny had tried to escape without even saying goodbye.

"I hope this doesn't change what you think about me," Danny pressed on. "I'm still the same guy I always was. I can just build stuff like this…" He rapped his hand a few times on the top of the half-built tank. "Whenever I want to."

Good Cop still remembered Lord Business's reaction to the sheer thought of showing a Master Builder any sign of hospitality. The Master Builders had very powerful abilities, and considering that Danny was part of a resistance movement, a significant number of them were probably working in direct opposition to Octan. They were a threat to the stability of society. How could Good Cop ever think of Danny the same way ever again?

Regardless, Good Cop forced a weak smile onto his face. Danny might have been a terrorist, but he was still a friend. "I understand. Everybody has their secrets." When everything was said and done, Danny's secrecy was completely understandable. Good Cop himself still harbored a secret from his friend for fear of the prejudice and backlash.

_Hmph._

A small sniffle came from Danny's direction. Good Cop couldn't see his friend's eyes through the sunglasses, but he thought he glimpsed a tear decal peeking out from under the shades before Danny swiped a hand across his face. "That…this really means a lot, man. You have no idea."

Actually, Good Cop had a fairly good idea of how much these kinds of things meant. Still, he drew his face into a puzzled frown. "I'm just…confused," he admitted. "I told you, I can't help you escape."

Danny's hopeful expression shifted to a guilty grimace. "I know. That's kind of why I tricked you into leaving me alone in the office. You wouldn't get involved when I broke myself out."

"But…" Good Cop swallowed a lump in his throat. "Keeping people locked up is my job. If Business knew I turned my back on you and you escaped, he might fire me. I need to keep this job, both for my sake and for yours."

A sharp sigh escaped Danny's mouth. "I know, man. I guess I didn't have the time to think this through." He swung his legs back and forth a few times, and then he carefully jumped off the corner of his half-built tank. After he landed, he took a few steps closer to Good Cop. "Look, there still has to be a way out of this. Does this room got a camera?"

Good Cop glanced around the empty white walls, taking note of the dividing line between this quiet meeting room and his office above. "Not if the ceiling's gone," he reasoned.

"Awesome. That makes everything a lot easier."

_For you, maybe. For us, not so much._

A relaxed smile broke out on Danny's face once more. "Man, with the two of us working together, we can do anything. We can come up an excuse, a plan or something, that lets me escape and lets you keep your job. Business won't suspect a thing. Everybody wins."

Good Cop felt a sense of peace wash over him. Maybe they really could come up with a plan where everyone got what they wanted. Granted, it would be difficult to construct and likely very tricky to pull off, not to mention dangerous. Business might not approve of every part of the plan, and it would require complete and total trust in Danny every step of the way, assuming Danny was still unswervingly trustworthy after everything that had happened.

_Like I said before, this is a terrible idea. Look at where your last terrible idea got us._

There were obvious alternatives, of course. There, dangling in front of him, was the option to simply jump Danny and arrest him while his guard was down. It was impossible to ignore. Part of him wanted so badly to take the bait, but other parts of him fiercely rebelled at the idea. It was tantalizing, yet terrible.

In the end, he gave a sharp intake of breath. He resolved to do the right thing, no matter what the consequences.

"Do you believe in the Man Upstairs?" he asked his friend.

Danny's smile widened a little. "Never go a day without thinking about Him."

Good Cop nodded. "Me too. The Man Upstairs builds everybody, every person on every Lego realm. He gives us our talents and personality, custom-making us for a specific place in His universe. Then, He guides us into the role He planned for us to have."

This was no new philosophy. Most theists in the universe believed similar things about the Man Upstairs, even though a surprising amount of people had been converting to atheism as of late. It worried Good Cop that so many people were losing faith in their creator, but luckily for the point he was trying to make, Danny's belief looked to be just as strong as ever.

"Sometimes, it's hard, finding the job in the universe you were built for," Good Cop admitted. "I'm lucky, and I've already found my place. I was built to be the chief of police. Where else would I have found you again? Where else could I help and protect so many people?"

Good Cop lowered his eyes and spoke slowly. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is… I hope, in the end, you find the job you were built for."

He glanced up to see a look of confusion shooting across Danny's face. "What are you…"

_Crink._

Bad Cop, having expected something like this to happen, pounced as soon has he had control. Slider didn't know what hit him until it was far too late.

Bad Cop tackled him backwards, not giving the criminal a moment to retaliate. Danny let out a pained cry as he slammed backwards against the front of the tank. Bad Cop took advantage of this moment of weakness by leaning his left arm sideways across the man's shoulders, pinning him to the vehicle. Before Slider could so much as struggle against the pin, Bad Cop snatched his gun up in his free hand pressed the barrel into Slider's temple.

"You are under arrest on accounts of disobeying a deportation order, resisting arrest, high treason, and the destruction of public and private property," he growled.

Slider, even after all of the emotional and physical trauma of the day, still managed to find a spark of angry defiance. Though he didn't struggle against the grapple, his face contorted with a furious scowl. "What'd you do with Goodie?"

Bad Cop, instead of dignifying this with a response, forced himself to follow the comfort of procedure. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"Cool, man," Slider interrupted, his voice cold. "Does this mean I get a trial? I get a lawyer?"

Bad Cop shifted the position of his pinning arm slightly. "No. Probably not."

"Figures," Slider mumbled as he shook his head. "Well, good luck keeping me in jail then, man. I've got a dozen buddies who'll stop at nothing to break me out. Even if you find a way to fight them off, you won't keep me caged forever. With enough time, I'll think up a way to break myself out without help."

Bad Cop gave a derisive grunt. "Your mind might be free, but I'm sure Lord Business knows how to hold a body prisoner, Master Builder or not."

Slider's entire body went rigid. "The password. Oh no. No no no-"

"That's right, 'best friend'," Bad Cop continued. "You put all of your trust in the worst possible person. With the password sequence you just gave him, I can take down your entire criminal network in three days. A week, tops."

Slider let out a small choking sound, his body still frozen in shock. Pathetic. How was this the same man who had lost his hand and still refused to break? Physical torture had barely any effect, but a few choice words were enough to crush every last bit of his resolve.

_Please, just get this over with. We've hurt Danny enough already._

The plaintive nature of his Good side's words made him give pause, and he supposed there was no point in wasting any more time. He drew his pinning arm away and took a few steps back, being careful to keep his blaster trained on Slider's head. The criminal barely moved, staring off into the distance.

"Come along quietly, Danny Boy, if you want your head to stay attached," Bad Cop snarled.

Slider's shoulders slumped, and he obediently took a few steps towards the door. Before he could reach it, however, he shuffled to a stop. He glanced at Bad Cop over his shoulder, his expression etched with a desperate plea. "Good Cop, I know you're still in there. When…if I get out of this place somehow, I promise, whatever sick experiments Lord Business did to make you like this, I'll find a way to get you back to normal."

That familiar fire in Bad Cop's chest flared up, tinging his peripheral vision with red. "Is that what I am to you?" He stormed forwards and aimed the barrel of his gun at the criminal's waist. If Slider were to die today, it should be drawn-out and painful. "You think I'm some freakish science project gone horribly wrong? A madman who needs medication to have any hope of being normal?"

_Please don't shoot him. Please…_

With his Good side's worryingly-quiet reminder, he was barely able to restrain himself. As an alternative, he used his blaster to prod Slider in the back, shoving him towards the exit door. "And you wonder why Good Cop never told you about me," he muttered. "Move along, Danny Boy. I'm out of patience for criminals like you."

* * *

Bad Cop decided to return Slider to his original cell, although with a few changes. Mostly, this amounted to stationing any and all of the available robo-cops around the holding chambers and their surrounding floors. This around-the-clock guard would hopefully be enough to hold Slider captive for a day or two, but it wasn't a long-term solution. Bad Cop would need to ask Lord Business for the specifics on how to properly contain a Master Builder.

He turned his walky-talky back on to give a few more choice orders to some other Octan robots. They were all Robo Feds, not the robo-cops he was used to working with, but there were too many of these office-bots idling in the deployment room, and he needed the extra hands. He ordered a team of them to disassemble Slider's tank and repair the floor of his office. Robo Feds worked quickly, so he expected everything to be back to normal before the start of his next turn.

In addition, he made radio call to Velma Staplebot. "I'd like to schedule an appointment with Lord Business this morning," he told her.

He heard a bit of rustling over the speaker. "What is the nature of this appointment?" she twittered.

"I'd like to report the capture of the known criminal and Master Builder, Daniel Slider," he spoke. "Also, I'd like his exact instructions on how to deal with both this Master Builder and any others I might encounter in the future."

"Master Builder?" Velma repeated, her metallic voice jumping up slightly. "I can schedule you for eight o'clock in the morning. Keep in mind that Lord Business usually does not prefer to meet this early, though the subject of your report obviously demands urgency."

"That'll do," Bad Cop replied. Would eight o'clock fall inside of his extended turn? He'd have to check the time. He wasn't exactly sure when his other side had put him back in control.

"Your meeting has been scheduled," Velma announced. "Remember, President Business's time is limited. He expects all of his clients to arrive on time and not overstay their welcome."

"Understood."

As he returned the walky-talky to his hip, he scanned the walls for clocks. He eventually found one at the end of the hallway, proudly displaying a time of 4:15. So, doing the math, his turn should end at 9:17 at the very latest. He would probably be in control during the meeting with Business. This thought made him puff out his chest a little.

However, he still wasn't exactly sure when he'd taken control back. His mental clock told him that it had been roughly half an hour ago, but he couldn't make a guess accurate enough for an exact decision. On top of that, he should probably factor in the ten minutes he'd gained by starting his turn early last evening.

He wondered if his Good side had caught a glimpse of a clock shortly after they had swapped.

Bad Cop waited for an answer to this hanging curiosity, but oddly enough, none came. His Good side was usually very astute at picking up thoughts like that.

He stopped pacing back and forth down the hallway. He had some vague idea of where he was – somewhere on the 200th floor, near the elevator in case he needed to go anywhere. It looked exactly like every other floor in this area, however, with their white walls and black doors.

There was still no answer from his other side, which unsettled him a little. "Good Cop?" he called out. "Do you know when I took control?"

_Sorry. 3:43. Your turn ends at 8:45._

Bad Cop nodded and resumed his state of constant pacing. "Thanks." It was a bit strange that his Good side was being so laconic, however.

_Sorry. I've just been through a lot today._

He rolled his eyes. "Because having a pleasant conversation over pizza must take a lot out of you." Bad Cop had been stuck listening to the two friends for hours, waiting for something interesting to happen. It had been absolutely maddening.

_Just…it was the one time I could have a friend again. It could be like old times again. Then, he turned out to be a Master Builder. I suppose I just wasn't meant to have friends._

He came to a stop once again and gave a scoff. "Really? You think you're the one not built to have any friends?" Bad Cop was the one who had problems dealing with people. When Danny had seen their true nature, it hadn't been two people sharing the same body. It had been Good Cop with some disgusting, evil appendage tacked on.

_Is that why you like taking your turn at night? Less people to deal with?_

Bad Cop squinted, trying to remember. They would have set up their twelve-hour system sometime before high school, but there weren't any discrete memories he could use to pin down exactly how and when the whole thing had started. Had his Good side even given him a choice in the matter?

_I don't know. I like to think I did._

Either way, he supposed that everything had been for the best. His Good side had gotten the chance to run around and socialize with everybody, and Bad Cop had gotten all the time in the world to train his body and prepare the two of them for their inevitable career in criminal justice. Good Cop had made some friends over the years, but as far as Bad Cop was concerned, friends weren't a necessary part of life. Friends would slow him down, or more likely, put a knife in his back.

_You were right about Danny, in the end. I really shouldn't have trusted him._

"No," he grunted. "You shouldn't have."

_I thought I could find a way for everyone to be happy. But…the whole thing was just too risky. I couldn't let a Master Builder escape. I just couldn't. I don't know why I couldn't. There should have been a way to-_

"I get it!" he snapped. "I was there, and I watched you make one of the few safe decisions you've made all evening." The volume of his voice made it ring around the long, straight hallways. "So, you finally found a situation where someone had to lose. So what? That's life. The loser wasn't me, you, or Business, which means you made the right choice. Stop whining about it."

Hot breath rushed out of his lungs once, twice, before his Good side made a reply.

_You're right. I'm sorry._

He clenched his teeth. It wasn't satisfying to be angry at someone when they were being such a complete doormat. There was nothing to gain by stomping on them, no appropriate target to aim for. He couldn't break someone who was already so thoroughly broken.

His Good side wasn't supposed to be broken. No matter what life threw at them, Good Cop would still be standing, as strong and robust as ever. He was not a doormat, not at the core of everything. That was only his outermost layer, the image he liked to put on display for people. When it came down to it, his core principles were as solid as a rock.

_Not today. I stabbed Danny in the back._

That was what made Bad Cop so nervous. His other side was clearly teetering on the edge of despair. Resilient optimism was his Good side's natural state, and watching him wallow in this much self-pity was…uncomfortable, to say the least.

He took a slow, calming breath. He was no good at words, and he was even worse at fixing things. But, he was good at distracting himself from uncomfortable truths, so that would have to do.

"Let's go find a computer," he said, turning in the direction he hoped was the elevator and resuming his march down the hallway.

_Why?_

"We'll do some research on these 'buddies' Slider kept going on about," he explained. "We don't meet with Business for another few hours. We might as well dredge up some information and figure out how to make contact with these people."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I think I somehow managed to turn Good Cop into a well-meaning, sympathetic, backstabbing manipulator. I don't know whether to be proud or terrified._
> 
> _Once upon a time, I believed that I would finish this story in only ten chapters. Now, my closest estimation is something around twenty-five. I keep finding new points to expand on and places for character arcs to flesh out. This could easily end up being the largest writing project I've ever worked on, and I have no regrets. All the support and motivation I've gotten from readers so far has been simply amazing._


	9. How to Run a Business

Normally, tracking down three citizens out of the millions inhabiting the Lego universe was an enormous chore. However, as someone with nearly all of Octan's resources at his disposal, a few short hours of his effort proved to be very fruitful.

He started out by looking for this "Jane" person Slider had mentioned a few times. He found some data on her very quickly, but unfortunately, it looked like he would never be able to locate her by traditional means. She was one of the other missing deportees – Jane Goodall, a woman who had been scheduled to leave for Dino Island just over two weeks ago. It would be another Slider search all over again. Realizing that the best method of finding her was probably through her other criminal associates, he took his search elsewhere.

He also remembered Slider talking about an older brother and mentioning a man named "Hip" a few times in conversation. So, the logical plan of action was to search for a man named "Hip Slider". The ensuing results were very promising – work records, an address, a phone number… Plus, the man had never received a deportation notice or been reported missing. He was still a normal, functioning member of society, and this made him incredibly easy to track down.

Bad Cop understood that they were probably going to locate the group and perform the password through Hip. However, the cop performed a search on the third member of that alleyway meeting as well, just for curiosity's sake. This presented its own set of challenges. On one hand, he didn't even know so much as the guy's name. On the other hand, the search pool narrowed significantly when considering that the man possessed superhuman abilities. The Heropolis records didn't have any superhero that matched his description, however, and the reports of superhuman abilities outside of that particular world were frustratingly vague.

Once Bad Cop figured out the exact nature of what he was looking for, however, the man's identity was easy to pinpoint. The resulting file held an immense amount of useful information, even if the cops couldn't exactly act upon it just yet. The man's home world was halfway across the universe, and Bad Cop obviously had a better way to link up with the resistance already.

Once he sent all three of their profiles off to be printed, it was already 7:03. This left just enough time to do a run of the usual morning routine and prepare himself for the meeting. He rolled his shoulders a few times, loosening up from hours of hunching in front of a computer. "Ready to meet the boss again?" he asked his Good side.

_No._

Simple, to-the-point, and reeking of unspoken dread. None of these traits would have sat right with Bad Cop on their own, and taken together, they send a sharp twinge of unease through him.

_I'm fine. You can get ready._

Even Bad Cop, with his lack of the normal social graces, understood that his Good side was clearly wasn't doing 'fine'.

_I'm doing fine enough._

He let out a breath and stood up from his chair. Whatever was wrong with Good Cop, it clearly wasn't going to fix itself. Bad Cop still wasn't sure how he should be addressing this problem. He had no clue how to lift his other side's spirits, and he was afraid that any of his attempts to try would find a way to backfire.

Maybe the meeting with Business would help somehow, if they were lucky. Bad Cop didn't have a good history of being lucky, though.

* * *

This was the second time Bad Cop had seen Lord Business in person, and this was also his second time entering the boss's office. Apparently, the month between visits was long enough to warrant some changes. The waiting room was completely the same, but upon entering the office proper, he discovered that the flooring had been replaced. The new white tiles gave the room a more sterile look. The window pane had also been fixed, and there was now a black desk and high-backed chair standing in front of it. Those bits of furniture were probably regular fixtures for the room, but today, Business didn't need a clear path to the window.

Lord Business stood beside this desk, resting a hand casually on one corner. A bright smile lit up his face. "Guess what I heard?" he asked playfully. Gone were the menacing helmet, heavy boots, and billowing cape. It was probably too early in the morning for such theatrics. Instead, Business wore his usual gray suit and red tie, a sharp but humble ensemble.

Bad Cop approached his boss with quick, eager paces. The threat of being thrown out a window still hung over his head, but now that he was finally getting the chance to deliver Business some good news, the threat was a little less real. "How much did Velma tell you, sir?" he asked.

"Only that my police chief caught a Master Builder last night." Bad Cop didn't think he'd ever seen his boss in this good of a mood. There was no hint of malicious warning in his voice, only a lightness signifying that everything last night had gone wonderfully right.

"We caught Daniel Strider sometime yesterday morning," Bad Cop explained. "We didn't know he was a Master Builder at the time, sir. However, we found out his true nature after extensive interrogation. We also learned some very valuable information from the interrogation, which we used to identify three of his associates. We suspect they are Master Builders as well, sir, and we are currently working on a plan to apprehend them."

Business raised one side of his monobrow. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what, sir?" Bad Cop answered reflexively.

Business's head swung back and forth as he chuckled. "Wow. You're really clueless about the whole thing?" He took a few steps closer, taking his hand off of the desk to cross his arms behind his back. "You've been on my payroll for, what, a month? Not only did you track down a Master Builder, but you captured them, broke them, and found a couple of strong leads to where the others are hiding. That's pretty darn impressive."

When Business put it all that way, it did sound impressive. It was encouraging to receive his due praise every once and a while. "Thank you, sir," he said, both unable and unwilling to suppress his gratefulness.

Business finished closing the distance between them. No crunching boots, no threatening approach, just a gentle, trustworthy smile. "I really hit the jackpot when I hired you, didn't I?"

_Debatably._

Bad Cop's mood wavered. He found himself suddenly being pulled in two different directions. On one hand, it was felt amazing for Business to flat-out say that he had done a good job. Out of all the pieces that made up the Octan empire, Bad Cop was one of the valuable few who deserved this kind of praise. All the training of his youth was finally paying off.

On another hand, his other side was still dealing with some backlash from last night. Bad Cop had given him hours to sort out those issues out and bounce back. He clearly wasn't bouncing back. What was wrong with him?

_There's no reason for anything to be wrong with me. Keep talking with President Business._

His Good side wasn't fooling anyone, least of all himself. What game was his other side even trying to play?

_I'm not trying to play anything._

If that was the case, then Good Cop should have no trouble flat-out explaining what was going on.

_Nothing's wrong. It's great that you're concerned, but you really have no reason to worry._

"I swear, if you're having some sort of inner dialogue…"

Bad Cop refocused his vision just in time to see Lord Business putting the finishing touches on a dramatic eye-roll. "Sorry, sir. Good Cop is just being a little…distracting. He's not acting like himself."

"Really?" President Business narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Wait, why am I even talking to the Bad guy right now? Doesn't Good Cop take the morning shift?"

"Normally, yes," the cop answered. "We're doing things a bit differently today."

"Is it anything that'll stop Good Cop and me from having a friendly boss-to-employee chat?"

Bad Cop filled a few long seconds with nervous hesitation, waiting for his Good side to swap in. When it became clear that it wasn't going to happen, he spoke up, "It shouldn't be a problem, sir."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Business held up both his arms. "Get the guy out here already. Let's see what all the fuss is about."

Bad Cop bit down on his bottom lip. "Um…"

_Crink._

"I'm here, sir," Good Cop spoke. His voice was quieter than he would have liked, but he couldn't find the energy to make it louder. "I'm sorry for not sticking to the schedule. I was paying Bad Cop back, you see. He gave me a few hours of his turn tonight."

Business's face dawned with understanding. "Ah! So you were the one who talked with the Master Builder and wheedled all that information out of him. Very nice."

Good Cop winced. "I wouldn't exactly call it 'very nice' of me."

Business didn't reply right away. He simply stood there, staring into Good Cop's eyes with a powerful, calculating look. The officer's anxiety quietly climbed under the scrutiny, but before it could build up enough to make him physically squirm, Business spoke up. "Good Cop, can I be frank with you?"

Was there really any choice? "I suppose so, sir."

Business gave a curt nod. "What you need to understand is this: Octan is a business. At the heart of it, even the government's a business. I need to run them both, but lucky for me, I'm very good at being in charge of things."

Business made a dramatic, sweeping gesture to the room around them. "Running a business is a lot like building a skyscraper. You need to be very careful with the foundation, and you need to consider how all the bricks in the building affect their neighbors."

He pointed a hand towards the cop. "You're like the support beams of my skyscraper. You keep outside forces from toppling the entire thing. However, you're obviously crumbling in some places. It's in my best interest to fix you and make sure you stay fixed, but unless I know where you're crumbling, there's really nothing I can do about it. Get it?"

"I get it, sir." Good Cop had picked up on the hints about halfway through the speech. It was clear that trying to shrug off his emotional problems by himself was only spreading the suffering. "I'm sorry. I'm just not feeling very passionate about this job anymore."

Business's eyes narrowed. "Weren't you the guy who claimed to be, and I quote, 'built for this job'?"

"I know," Good Cop moaned. "It's just that I don't like hurting people. When I tricked Danny Slider into revealing all that information, I hurt someone who…used to be a close friend of mine."

A nod came from Business. "Had some history with the Master Builder, huh?"

Good Cop couldn't think of any reasonable response besides, "Yes. Lots."

Business frowned, his face shifting to a slightly darker mood. "What kinds of stuff did you do together?"

Admittedly, Good Cop was still very short on details when it came to this subject. He scrambled to collect the handful of faded memories and patched some of the holes with likely assumptions. "We had a few classes together in high school, so we sat together a lot. We hung out after school sometimes, but, uh, not too late. I didn't want to cut into Bad Cop's turn, sir."

He hoped that this was the information his boss was looking for. However, Business's unimpressed gaze clearly told him told him otherwise. Swallowing, Good Cop tried to continue. "We…helped each other with homework sometimes. We had inside jokes."

"What kinds of inside jokes?"

The question was so unexpected that Good Cop didn't immediately panic. The anxiety struck a few moments later, when he realized that he had absolutely no way to answer this question. "I don't know, sir."

Business gave a scoff. "If you two were so close, you must've come up with a dozen inside jokes over the years. Now, you can't even remember one?"

It was getting a bit difficult to breathe. If he was truly a good friend of Danny, then why would he have forgotten so much about the time they spent together? Why would he have stabbed Danny in the back, for that matter? The more he thought about it, the more evidence he found, and the guiltier he became.

_Could you at least pretend to be composed? We're talking with our boss. Calm down._

Good Cop forced the breath out of his lungs. He didn't have any good reason to panic, especially not under these circumstances. He would deal with this problem later, perhaps during his Bad side's turn, when Good Cop didn't have to worry about putting up a face for people.

He refocused his gaze on Lord Business's inquisitive stare. "No, I don't remember anything specific," he answered. His voice cracked on the last syllable, despite his best attempts to keep his words level.

At this response, Business raised his hands and tapped them together a few times. "Now we're getting somewhere." He quickly spun around, turning his back on the cop, and began to stride towards his desk once more. "Thank goodness. For a moment, I thought there was actually something wrong with you."

Business rounded the corner of his desk and plunked down in his imposing, high-backed chair. After taking a moment to settle into the seat, he continued. "Though, I'm guessing that you've got some anxiety about the, ah, sparse nature of your memories. You've forgotten some important things over the years, and it makes you a little nervous. What if you forget something important on the job, right?"

Good Cop gave a small, hesitant nod. While this wasn't the exact reason for his emotional stress, he supposed it was close enough.

That soft, calming smile Business always seemed to wear on television appeared in the blink of an eye. "Don't worry yourself about it. How long ago was high school for you, five years? Five years is a long time. It's normal to forget all the specifics."

Good Cop supposed that made sense. Five years was a lot of time to maintain those kinds of memories. He would bet that very few people in the universe currently had a memory any better than his own. Danny was one of those exceptions, of course, but that was to be expected. Master Builders weren't known for being 'normal'.

"Also," Business grunted as he shifted his posture and braced his hands against his desk. "It's pretty clear that you feel bad about putting your little friend in jail. Let me guess – he's a free spirit, and locking him up is the worst possible punishment?"

Good Cop, once again, gave a small nod.

Business glanced down to his desk and started sifting through some paperwork. "Luckily for you, I'm planning on putting the Master Builders in a different kind of prison. I call it a 'Think Tank'. It's completely sealed off from the outside world, but everyone inside can socialize without restrictions. They'll be given enough stimulation to keep them in peak physical and mental condition. I've set up robotic systems to cater to their every need. It's a bit of a revolutionary concept."

This sent a huge tide of relief washing over Good Cop. This 'Think Tank' sounded worlds better than the holding chambers or prison cells he'd expected to be in Danny's future. "It sounds like an interesting kind of prison, sir." Still, a question found its way onto his tongue. "Will he ever be released?"

At this, Business's expression fell slightly. "Unfortunately, no. The Master Builders really have no place in the world I'm trying to build. They're too…diverse. Colorful. They'll never fit in anywhere else. So, I'll keep them all locked away from society, and I'll drop by to consult with them whenever I need to crank out some instructions for a new building project. The Master Builders get to use their powers to help society, and society gets to function like normal without the Master Builders messing everything up."

In other words, everything came out alright in the end. No one would suffer solely for the benefit of someone else. Everyone would win. At the end of the day, that was all Good Cop ever truly wanted. He let his shoulders sag. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."

Business looked up from his paperwork for a second. "Yeah, you should be thankful." He returned his attention to the sheets of paper still littering his desk. "Just put the Slider guy with a robot escort and send him up to the infinity-minus-one'th floor. I'll take care of the rest."

Finally, things were moving in a positive direction. Good Cop, heart now lighter, plucked the walky-talky off his hip and slowly turned towards the exit. "I'll give the orders right away, sir, and leave you to your paperwork."

Business stiffened suddenly, holding three papers out in front of him. Then, he slowly lowered the sheets and set them back on the desk. "Who gave you permission to leave?"

_Great. Now he's mad at us._

Good Cop was quick to return the walky-talky back to its usual place. "Um, no one gave me permission, sir." He would have felt foolish if he wasn't too busy fighting off his nervousness. "Do you still need me for something?"

"Definitely." Business casually rested his arms on top of the desk. "It shouldn't take very long. I just need to correct a major misconception you've made about the nature of your job." His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered to a dangerous, dark note. "Somewhere along the line, you became convinced that being the police chief was supposed to be easy."

Good Cop, filled with too much anxiety to come up with a thought-out response, spoke a simple, "I'm sorry."

Business leaned a bit farther forward in his chair. "It's not entirely a mistake on your part. Some of it is my fault. I haven't exactly been putting a lot of pressure on you since you started this job. No mandatory reports, no real expectations or specific problems to solve… I've basically been letting you run around and do things on your own initiative. Plus, I didn't give Bad Cop even a third of the robotic police force I originally wanted him to control."

_What!?_

Business continued. "Anyways, I needed to test your loyalty before I could get you completely integrated into my system. For a while, you looked a little too good to be true. I suspected you were a Master Builder trying to go undercover in my workforce."

Good Cop put a hand to his mouth in shock. "Sir, I could never do that!"

Business rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah, that's pretty obvious by now. Still, I needed to make sure you weren't going to stab me in the back. Congrats on passing the test. However, things are going to get more difficult from here on out. Starting today, you're going to send me a detailed progress report every Monday. Got it?"

"Got it. But, um…" How was he supposed to explain to Business that the workload wasn't why he found the job hard? "I feel like there are going to be…other problems, in the future, with people like Danny."

Business gave a nonchalant shrug. "So, what, you have other old friends who might be Master Builders? Good to hear. That should make everything a lot easier for you."

"No!" the cop cried out. "I mean, no, I don't have any friends who would be… Not anymore, at least. And, no, being friends with them wouldn't make my job easier. It would just mean stabbing them in the back in a hundred different ways. I don't enjoy manipulating people and pulling their strings, and knowing that I'll just have to betray them in the end… It makes things really, really hard."

As a quick afterthought, he murmured, "When the Man Upstairs gives you a job, it's not supposed to be this difficult."

He immediately regretted this impulsive sentence. This regret was made even worse when his boss gave an exasperated groan and pressed both hands to his forehead. "Don't bring up that hippy-dippy religion right now. I've got enough problems to worry about fixing."

Good Cop's gaze hit the floor. "Sorry, sir."

A few seconds passed, and Business finally placed his hands back on the desk. "So. You don't like some of the stuff you'll have to do for this job. You're good at it, but it's not exactly 'fun' for you. It makes your skin crawl." He gave a slight pause. "So what? This job is still more forgiving than anything you'd experience outside of my company."

Good Cop was pinned in place by his boss's scrutinizing gaze. No words could escape him, not when Business's words hit so close to home. He honestly wasn't prepared for this kind of psychological attack, not so soon after the whole Danny incident.

_It's not an attack. He's only trying to remind us how rough it actually is out there._

The world wasn't that rough of a place. There were plenty of nice and kindly people living in Bricksburg and the other Lego worlds. Maybe, somewhere out there, was a group of people he wouldn't need to hide the truth from, a group who accepted both of them for who they were.

_Hmph. You of all people would think that, wouldn't you?_

Good Cop was pulled from his mental conversation when he noticed President Business slowly standing up from his chair. "After your interview, I took the liberty of looking up some other people with your…condition. The results were very interesting." A grin slipped onto his face. "Or, should I say, the lack of results? Turns out, you're the only living double-faced adult in Octan's entire database."

_We're the only ones? Huh._

Good Cop's chest felt disturbingly hollow. He'd entertained the idea that they were possibly the only one of their kind before, but he hadn't actually expected it to be true. Needless to say, it left him feeling more than a little isolated.

Business wasn't done talking. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out how people would react to learning about your condition. At the very least, they'd keep you at arm's length. At the very worst, they'll toss you into a hospital psyche ward and turn you into a case study for the Octan Official Psychology Textbook."

_Assuming I let them catch us. I don't care what anyone says, I do not belong in a hospital._

Business slowly, calculatingly, walked around the side of the desk, keeping his unwavering focus on the cop. "I'm probably the one person in the universe who isn't afraid of you. Why should I be? You're not just a freak of nature, you know. You can do a lot of things that other people simply can't."

In the midst of Good Cop's depression, a seed of hope began to grow. "Like infiltrating the resistance movement and becoming a double agent?"

Business's unibrow gave a startled jump. "What? Really? How?"

"I don't think anyone in the resistance realizes that Bad Cop and I share a body," Good Cop explained. "They'd have no reason to suspect it, especially if we're the only ones who can do that kind of thing."

Over the course of a few seconds, Business's smile deepened into a grin of sadistic glee. "Oh ho! So, you lead them on with a few choice words, spinning a sob story about how Bad Cop's making you arrest 'innocent people' against your will, and when they loosen their lips, you milk them dry. That is diabolical!"

The vicious nature of Business's words made Good Cop give pause. "That was the plan, sir."

"The best part comes after you've drained every last drop of information from them," Business grinned. "They trust you completely, and their guard couldn't be any farther down. Then, bam!" He slammed his hand down onto his desk. "Bad Cop jumps out and nabs them."

"That…was also part of the plan, sir."

Business closed the distance between the two of them with a few eager strides. "Wow. This is almost too perfect. Information, a superior tactical position, and eventually some more Master Builders for the Think Tank… We'll get everything we need from them. And that's not even the best part!"

The president came to a stop in front of the cop, his entire body brimming with confidence. "The best part is that there's no security risk at all. One of the huge problems with double-agent plots is the loyalty issue. Before I send an agent in to learn all of the Master Builder's secrets, I need to make sure they won't defect."

Business reached out and placed a hand on Good Cop's shoulder. "You? I don't need to worry about that at all. You know where you belong. There's nothing the Master Builders can offer you that's better than your place at Octan."

Good Cop felt a smile pricking at the corners of his mouth. "I'm honored that you trust me so completely, sir."

"I'd hope so," Business replied, letting his arm drop down to his side. "When I said I hit the jackpot when I hired you two, I meant it. Bad Cop might be a pro when it comes to beating things up, but you broke a Master Builder by doing nothing more than talking to him. There's literally no way you could do your job any better."

At first, this seemed like simple flattery, but as Good Cop thought about it more, it gained a new dimension. Any other police chief might have to resort to questionable practices to get the information Lord Business wanted – torture, blackmail, even murder. Good Cop, however, had been blessed with enough skill and talent to extract the knowledge without any of that. His work could prevent an incredible amount of suffering.

Yes, he might have to harm people during his job. He might have to manipulate people, betray them, or even attack them psychologically. But, every time he did those things, he prevented his Bad side from going about the same job in a much more destructive way. It wouldn't be easy, but Good Cop had confidence that he could still have an immense positive impact on the universe.

His gaze returned to Business's gentle, soothing smile. "Thank you for the motivation, sir. I'm ready to return to my job and give it my best efforts."

"There we go, that's what I wanted to hear!" Lord Business whirled around and began approaching his desk once more. "Good Cop's happy again, Bad Cop's doing his job, and both of you know what needs to be done. All fixed."

Good Cop watched anxiously as his boss sat down and began looking through his paperwork again. The silence put a weight on the cop, pressing down on his nerves, until it finally drove him to speak. "Sir, may we leave now?"

Business gave a quick glance up. "Oh, sure. Go ahead and order the Slider guy up to the Think Tank, and then get started on that double-agent plan."

"We will, sir. You can count on us."

As Good Cop turned to leave, he heard Business call out one last thing. "Remember, tomorrow's a Monday, and I expect your first report on my desk by noon!"

* * *

He ordered Danny's transfer to the infinity-minus-one'th floor, began the trip back to his office, and reached the 200th floor by elevator before he realized that it was still his Bad side's turn. He'd been so wrapped up in his feelings of hope, accomplishment, and progress that everything else had completely slipped his mind. An all-too-familiar sense of guilt stabbed him through the chest, and his brain scrambled to figure out how to repay the lost time.

He figured that he still owed his other side about half an hour. However, there was still the matter of when it should be repaid. He could cede control immediately and let his Bad side run around and tie up some loose ends from this crazy night, or they could wait until this evening and let Good Cop's turn end half an hour earlier than usual. He really had no personal preference, so the decision was left entirely to his other side.

_Give it to me now. We should try to get back to our schedule as soon as possible._

Good Cop gave a nod of understanding as he made his way towards the stairs. At the entrance to the stairwell, he came to a halt and took a deep breath.

_Crink._

Bad Cop continued where his other side had left off, beginning the climb up the stairs that would take him to his office. It would take him a while to reach the appropriate floor. Seven flights, while not particularly exhausting to someone in his physical condition, was still an annoying amount of distance to cover. Meanwhile, he could perhaps use his time to figure out how to give his other side a stern talking-to.

_So, you're still upset with me, not that it's anything new. I wondered why you were being so quiet back there._

Bad Cop pulled his face into his standard scowl. He hadn't been particularly quiet, no more than usual, anyway.

_Actually, you were. You didn't say a word on my entire trip up the elevator. You could have reminded me that I still owed you some time, but for some reason, you didn't. Had other things on your mind?_

"Maybe." Everything from the past day or so – capturing and interrogating Slider, that alleyway encounter, the meeting with Business, watching his Good side's emotional roller coaster ride – had given him a lot to think about. A lot of the previously-stable areas of his life had suddenly become unreliable. And, strangely enough, a few areas he'd previously considered unstable were now proving to be more far more reliable than he'd assumed.

A lot of his current thoughts, however, centered on the double-agent plan his other side had invented. Everything about it left a sour taste in his mouth. What baffled him most of all was Business's eager support. While Business no doubt had a big-picture view of the situation that no one else could ever hope to match, Bad Cop couldn't think of this plan as anything other than an insane suicide mission.

_You're that reluctant to do your job?_

No, he wasn't reluctant to do his job, per se, but he was reluctant to participate in a plan that he essentially had no control over. He dreaded the thought of watching his Good side make a mess of things, especially since that man had the annoying habit of ignoring Bad Cop's doubts and reservations until it was far too late to fix anything.

… _Oh. I get it now._

Bad Cop certainly hoped so.

_You're fine with the general nature of the plan, but you don't want to be left out._

He stumbled on a turn in the stairway. Luckily, his foot whipped out in time to catch himself before he could fall. His breathing came a little faster, but he knew this wasn't solely due to the adrenaline spike of his near-faceplant.

_That's alright. No one likes being left out. This double-agent thing is still in its planning stages – do you have any ideas of your own you want to squeeze into it?_

Bad Cop resumed his climb, his momentary shock burnt away by sheer annoyance. "What are you asking me for? You're the idea guy. Business loves your little plots and schemes."

_True, but two minds are always better than one. Take your fights, for instance. While you concentrate on, um, shooting things, I can check your peripheral vision to keep people from sneaking up on us. We can do a similar thing here, but in reverse._

Bad Cop wanted to roll his eyes at the idea. He wanted to scoff and tell his Good side to worry about his own problems. He wanted to set off their whole routine of cautious argument and stubborn refusal, as was his comfortable habit.

However, he couldn't deny that at least one small part of him relished the idea of finding some way to cash in on his Good side's success. In combat, his other side served as a sort of a safety net, keeping track of the vital details that often meant the difference between victory and defeat. When infiltrating the resistance movement, Bad Cop could be the safety net, the one who held his Good side's safety in his own two hands.

_Um…_

"I'll cooperate," Bad Cop clarified.

_Oh? Great!_

Bad Cop chose to let the conversation drop off at this point, preferring to mull over a few thoughts in his head as he passed the 205th floor. Sure, his cooperation would probably make the plan go more smoothly, but he still had a few lingering doubts about their safety. His Good side was a man who liked to fly by the seat of his pants, and while this wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it made an already risky venture even riskier. It would be much better if they could plan out a solid course of action ahead of time.

_We don't know much about the resistance movement or the Master Builders. That's part of the reason we're doing this intel mission, after all. How could we possibly plan around them?_

"We could get your story straight, for starters." If they had their story planned out ahead of time, it would save them a lot of trouble. Good Cop wouldn't be forced to come up with lies on the fly, and it would prevent him from blurting out any contradictions that might blow their cover.

_Ooh. That's a really good idea._

Bad Cop narrowed his eyes, not saying anything in response. It felt weird to have his Good side complimenting him like this.

_We should start this off by figuring out exactly how you're 'related' to me. Any interesting ideas?_

"Second cousins," he answered, echoing his other side's lie from last night. "But we grew up in separate neighborhoods."

Bad Cop conversed with his Good side about this for much longer than he originally intended. Even after he reached his office, he was perfectly content to talk his remaining half-hour away, discussing different possible stories and the benefits of each. Even after Good Cop swapped in, it took nearly an hour to hammer out the last of the details, but in the end, both of them were finally satisfied. When Good Cop marched into the resistance's lair, he would be armed with an ironclad web of deceit.

Those Master Builders wouldn't know what hit them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Once again, I'm a week late with a chapter. It's all for the greater good, though. This week has let me give this chapter the thorough editing it deserves, and I've also started to accumulate a backlog. Hopefully, I can actually keep to a weekly schedule now._


	10. How to Tell a Lie

Hip worked at a coffee shop near the edge of town called the Jumping Bean. Once Good Cop strode through the glass front door and dimly registered the ring of the overhead bell, he realized that this place wasn't exactly "jumping". Granted, he didn't expect a coffee shop to get much business at one in the afternoon, but this place was also obviously suffering from competition with Octan's newest chain store, the Coffee Chain. A quick glance around the beat-up chairs and abstract art on the walls told him that he was currently the only customer in the store.

The barista perked up as he entered, stashing his newspaper underneath the register. Good Cop dimly recognized this as the hooded man from the alleyway encounter. It was difficult to see the connection now that there were no sunglasses to obstruct his eyes or hood to shield his face.

"Good Cop? Huh. What brings you here, dude?" the man asked in his throaty voice. Yep, this was Hip alright.

Good Cop gave a glance at the chalkboard menu. Some of the items were crossed out or erased, suggesting that financial difficulties had forced them to scale back on their variety. "Let me think for a minute." He wasn't familiar with coffee stores, seeing as caffeine wasn't something he usually needed to resort to.

_Just pick something and go. Once we have the info we need, the drink doesn't matter._

Good Cop, after a moment more of hesitation, gave a shrug. "Can I get a medium iced tea?"

Hip flashed him a brief, friendly smile. "Sure, dude, no problem. Here or to go?"

"Here, please." He couldn't exactly leave until he had the information he needed.

A curt nod from Hip. "You looking for something darker, or fruitier? Or do you want more caffeine?"

Good Cop grimaced. He wasn't used to this much variety. "I just want something to cool me down," he said simply.

Hip put on a sly grin, one that looked depressingly similar to the one Danny had always worn. "Kay. I'll whip you up a mint. That'll be two bucks."

As Good Cop handed over the metal studs, he couldn't help but marvel at how cheap the drink was. At least the price explained why no one was here – the "drink overpriced coffee" part of the instructions was one that many people followed religiously.

As Hip prepared the drink, Good Cop watched with mild interest. In most food and retail places he visited throughout the day, the workers followed a very exact set of instructions. Their motions were rapid and precise, designed to maximize speed and profit. Hip was nearly the complete opposite. A few inexact sloshes from a couple different jugs below the counter were followed by a handful of ice studs dumped into the mug.

As Hip approached him with the iced tea, Good Cop gave a deep exhale. It was time for the real part of the plan to begin. He rested his hands on the counter, put on a faint smile, and gave Hip an unblinking stare.

"Here you go, dude," Hip said as he offered the mug.

Good Cop refused to move. He remained frozen in place, doing his best to smother any nervousness or discomfort. He silently reassured himself that Danny had given him the correct instructions.

Hip gestured with the mug. "Dude? Hello? Your tea?" After a moment of unbearably tense silence, his eyes went wide. "Wait. No, you can't be serious."

Good Cop's mood leapt, making it a distinct effort to hold still.

Hip's words became slowed with caution. "Did something freeze you like that?"

Good Cop wanted to release an immense sigh, but instead, he forced himself to follow through with the password. "My body is frozen, but my mind is always free."

Hip abruptly ducked low over the counter, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. "Dude, what the heck are you doing? There's an Octan camera in here!"

Good Cop allowed himself to relax, and he calmly took the mug from Hip's unresisting grip. Yes, there was a security camera in this store, but thanks to his Bad side's input, he had already come up with an answer to this sort of question. "I had someone jam the cameras," he explained. "We should be good for, oh, another hour or so. Bad Cop's asleep, and Business thinks I'm on my lunch break."

Hip blinked his eyes a few times. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and opened it once more before he found the presence of mind to say anything. "Okay."

Honestly, Good Cop had expected to encounter far more suspicion than this, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Danny told me there was a meeting for the Bricksburg resistance in a few days," he began, trying to imply the natural question.

At the mention of his brother, Hip shook the blank surprise out of his expression. Ah, there was the suspicion Good Cop had been expecting. "Where'd you get the password?" Hip muttered.

Simple questions should be treated with simple answers. Good Cop, softening his expression with false hurt, responded with a quiet, "Danny told me."

Hip's narrowed eyes kept up the same intensity of suspicion. "Why'd he tell you?"

Good Cop broke eye contact, staring into his reasonably-priced drink. For both his true self and the persona he wanted to display to Hip, this was not a topic he wanted to revisit. "I was his best friend, all the way to the end."

In his peripheral vision, he could see Hip's posture loosening up. As Danny's older brother, Hip would have known all about their friendship in high school. Still, Good Cop gauged that a fair amount of distrust remained. Anyone who worked for Lord Business was still an enemy of the resistance, and no high school friendship was going to convince them otherwise.

Luckily, Good Cop knew exactly what he needed to say to obliterate those last remnants of suspicion. "The password was one of the last things he told me before Bad Cop interrupted us," Good Cop muttered. "He took Danny away, dragged him to the electrocution chamber. I didn't even get to see him again before he…" A wet swallow, executed at the perfect time to imply everything that went unsaid. "And now I'll never get to see him again."

Good Cop put on a grim smile and looked back up into Hip's cold eyes. "From what I heard, Danny fought him every step of the way. He didn't break, no matter how much Bad Cop tortured him. He even lost a hand, but he still didn't crack. He died fighting for what he believed in. It's the way he would have wanted to go, I think."

There was the tiniest bit of heartbreak in Hip's eyes. Still, Good Cop remained confident that telling these lies was the right thing to do. It was better to paint Danny as a martyr rather than a captive. If the Master Builders believed he was still alive, they would attempt to break him out, and that could only end in disaster. If they believed that he'd died for their cause, they would be more willing to sacrifice their lives in turn, taking unnecessary risks in the process. Capturing them and bringing them to their rightful place would become easier and less damaging for everyone involved.

Plus, Hip and the others would learn the truth about Danny eventually. If Good Cop had his way, everyone would be reunited as quickly as possible, even if he needed to use a few lies to grease the wheels in the meantime.

"Dude…" Perhaps Hip's eyes looked a little bit mistier than before, but still, this was far from the outward display of sadness Good Cop had expected to see after telling this man of his brother's demise. "I knew Bad Cop was ruthless. Torture, yeah, we all knew it was gonna come to that. But killing him?"

"I don't think Bad Cop did it on purpose," Good Cop said. "Things kind of…escalated out of control. I'm sorry."

Hip leaned against the counter slightly. For the most part, this appeared to be a casual action, but Good Cop picked up a slight tremor in his movements. He was likely just as anguished as anyone would be in this situation. He was simply doing a very good job of holding it back. If only Bad Cop possessed that level of self-control, perhaps their partnership would be a bit healthier.

_What is that supposed to mean?_

Good Cop pulled his mug a little closer to his body and sighed. He didn't expect his other side to understand what it meant, but he wasn't in a position to explain things at the moment. He needed to focus on the problem at hand. Hip was still holding back, and Good Cop had one last card he could play.

He leaned in a little closer. "Danny didn't deserve to die," he said, hardening his voice. "I want to avenge him. I want to finish what he started. We spent our last few minutes together discussing ways for me to join the resistance movement, and I really don't want it to be for nothing."

That was it, the last bit of information Hip needed. The barista inhaled deeply, then exhaled, before taking his hands off the counter and turning completely around. He walked into the back of the store, stepping through a doorway and out of sight.

_He's gone. Your plan didn't work._

On the contrary, Good Cop thought everything was going along swimmingly. He was confident that Hip had at least a small amount of trust in him now.

_How do you figure?_

Good Cop hadn't proven his trustworthiness in any logical way, but he had sown the seeds of something far more important. If Hip denied him now, he would be turning his back on his dead brother's final wishes. Even if he didn't believe Danny was dead, the doubt would haunt him every day. What if Good Cop had been trustworthy all along? What if Danny had sacrificed himself to let Good Cop join the resistance, but everything had been in vain?

Hip had the desire to trust him now, and that was far more powerful than any hard proof. Very smart people often put their faith in the absolute worst possible people. So long as they wanted to trust them, they would rationalize endlessly until the target became the most trustworthy person in the universe. Well, perhaps the second most trustworthy, sitting just behind President Business.

While Good Cop waited for the barista's return, he absentmindedly sipped at his drink. Not bad, not bad at all, especially considering how cheap it was. The subtleness of the flavors put it in a tier above the standard Octan fare.

_Stop enjoying it. That's the enemy's tea._

Good Cop nearly choked on his mouthful of tea. He hadn't anticipated the potential of it being drugged or poisoned, though he seriously hoped this wasn't the case. It was already too late to backtrack.

_That's not what I meant._

Oh, so his Bad side was concerned that they weren't drinking an official Octan product.

_Correct._

Now that he thought about it a little more deeply, it was probably slightly treasonous to admit that this coffee shop easily beat out the Octan chain in almost every way. Price, taste, in-store atmosphere… Still, he couldn't say that he regretted exploring this secondary option.

_We just bought something from one of Octan's competitors._

A competitor that, by the look of the store alone, was struggling to keep up. It was comforting to know that the Jumping Bean's clear advantage wasn't nearly enough to defeat Octan's powerful media presence and rampant popularity. When all was said and done, Business was still the winner of this economic fight, and any victory for Lord Business was a victory for everyone.

Hip stepped back into view again, clutching a piece of paper in one hand. His expression was hard and unreadable, but it was clear that the cop had scored some sort of victory. "Memorize this," Hip ordered, shoving the paper into Good Cop's one free hand.

Good Cop quickly scanned the scribbled words. 207 Studdington Avenue, 8 PM. The Bricksburg meeting time and place, obviously.

"Tomorrow night," Hip added. "Be on time. Come alone."

_Impossible, unfortunately._

Good Cop repeated the address a few times under his breath. It was easy to memorize, especially considering that the house number was the same as his office's floor number. He handed the paper back to Hip. "Is there anything else I need to know, or…?"

Hip quickly took the note back, and without warning, he also snatched the mug of tea out of Good Cop's hands.

"Um, I'm not done with..." Good Cop started.

Hip didn't respond, instead turning to hold both the paper and the mug over a nearby sink. Without pause, Hip dumped the remainder of the drink onto the note. Stud-droplets of tea ran down the sheet, smearing the words until they were completely illegible.

"Oh." Good Cop spoke.

Hip shook the last few studs of tea out of the mug, and then he let it fall into the sink with a clatter. "You should prolly go," he grumbled. "I gotta make some calls now."

Good Cop's radio chose this specific moment to give its standard, piercing ring. Good Cop quickly covered it with his hand and flashed Hip a sheepish grin. "Apparently, I have to make some calls too," he joked. "So, I'll see you tomorrow night?"

Hip gave an uncommitted grunt. Good Cop nervously stood there for a few seconds, waiting to see if Hip had anything more to add. When no further response came, Good Cop gave a polite, "Goodbye," and showed himself out.

As he stepped out into the bright sunlight and began the walk back to his car, he gave himself a moment or two to settle back into his police chief mindset. Then, he grabbed at his radio and pulled it up to the side of his head.

"Good Cop reporting," he spoke.

"Leif Mapleson," a gruff voice replied from the speaker. Ah, this was the Viking from yesterday afternoon. He was likely reporting the outcome of that sea serpent debacle.

"How did it go? Not too badly, I hope?" Good Cop asked, genuinely curious.

"It wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been, chief. Your officers showed up right in the nick of time, and the beast didn't know what hit it." The man let out a hearty chuckle. "Now, the serpent's bricks are helping repair the buildings it destroyed. Construction is slow, chief, but we'll be done soon enough."

Good Cop couldn't help but wonder how much quicker the process would be if they had a Master Builder to help rebuild. Maybe this was one of the reasons why Business had set up his Think Tank? Good Cop shook his head, deciding to pursue a different path in the conversation. "By the way, which superheroes came to the rescue?" he asked.

"Um… None of them, chief," the Viking answered. "It would've been nice, though. Not that your police officers didn't do a great job, but with superhero help, things might've ended a bit sooner. Less damage."

"Mmm-hmm." This was troubling news. Even if the Heropolis division had been too busy to send a hero or two over, they would have at least given him a call to let him know. "I'll look into it," he assured.

"Thanks."

Without another word, he set the walky-talky back on his hip.

* * *

The time before the resistance meeting was packed with activity. Both cops worked together on the Monday report, each typing out half of it sometime during their turn. Bad Cop also assumed direct control of the rest of the Super-Secret Police, the robots Lord Business had seen the need to hold back until the cop could prove himself. To Bad Cop's delight, his robotic police force almost tripled overnight. Business also put him in charge of a squad of "specialized" robots, something Bad Cop realized would be very useful for the coming mission.

There was also the matter of figuring out exactly how the two of them would manage their turns to accommodate Good Cop's nighttime meeting. The meeting in question could last anywhere between five minutes and several hours. There was no way to properly compensate for the lost time beforehand.

Bad Cop wanted to return to their usual schedule as quickly as possible after the night was over, but Good Cop didn't think this was necessarily such a good idea. If the mission went as planned, Good Cop might be called to go to several more nighttime meetings, which would cause problems for Bad Cop's dream of returning to their usual schedule.

Eventually, they settled on a compromise. On the night before the meeting, Bad Cop's turn would start an hour earlier than usual and last an hour later into that evening. Then, when the meeting was over, they would figure out how much time Good Cop still owed his other side, and they would figure out what to do from there.

When Good Cop drove to the meeting place, he perhaps gave himself a little too much time to get there. He decided to use this extra time to park his car a healthy distance away from the meeting house, hoping to keep any resistance members from messing with his car. This also had the secondary benefit of adding to his deception. It looked like he was trying to throw someone off his trail.

Even after walking the rest of the way, he arrived a few minutes early at 207 Studdington. It was a nice place overall, a smaller house tucked away in the northern area of Bricksburg's residential sector. The building was a bit simple, a plain, blocky structure restrained to a single story, but at least it had a porch. Though he had only the streetlights to see by, he could tell the outer walls were a relaxing shade of blue. No one would suspect that such a charming house could be a base for Bricksburg's most dangerous criminals.

As Good Cop approached the front door, he couldn't help but notice that the windows were dark. Even the porch light was off. Had he come to the right place?

_I've checked the address three times. We're here._

He raised a hand to knock, but before he could do so, the door suddenly swung open. He gave a small jump in surprise, and rightfully so. Standing in the doorframe was a familiar man – flat-top blond hair, white clothing, and a serious stare. This was the opponent who had left both cops so thoroughly concussed only a few days ago.

Good Cop's eyes naturally strayed downwards, hoping to see what kind of damage his Bad side's blaster had done. He caught sight of an ugly-looking scorch mark about halfway down one leg, but otherwise, there didn't appear to be any lasting damage. Worrisome, to be sure.

_We already have measures in place to deal with him. Don't you dare let your resolve crack this early in the game._

Good Cop tried not to fidget away his anxiety. "I'm here for the, um…"

The man crossed his arms. "Good Cop," he said plainly. "I wondered if I would ever get the chance to meet you face to face. Of course, Bad Cop and I have already met."

Good Cop himself had personally lived through that meeting, experiencing the fight through his other side's thoughts and sensations. This man was acting pleasant now, but Good Cop was well aware of exactly how dangerous the man before him could be. If he could even be called a 'man', anyways.

Good Cop maintained only a weak smile as he spoke. "Bad Cop wouldn't stop talking about you when he got back to the station. You were very close to winning that fight, you know. If that gun hadn't landed where it did…" Or if there hadn't been a second mind to point out that gun, things might have ended quite differently.

The man gave a polite nod. "Even the best fighters get unlucky." After a moment, he held out a friendly hand. "My name is Zane. Welcome to the resistance."

Good Cop responded by taking this hand and giving it and eager shake. "Thanks! I didn't expect to get this warm of a welcome."

Zane continued to shake hands, perhaps a little longer than was strictly comfortable. "A warm welcome?" he said, amused. "If that is what you want to call this."

Zane suddenly gave a tug, nearly yanking Good Cop off his feet. The cop yelped as he pitched forward into the house. The door slammed, cutting off most of the ambient light.

_Great. It's a trap._

In the darkness, something slammed into his back. He lost the rest of his balance and crashed face-first into the floor. A set of hands, probably Zane's, pressed against his shoulders, pinning him to the ground. Good Cop heard voices, but there were far too many for him to discern any of the words. Someone turned on the lights, though he was too busy getting a close-up view of the bricks in the floor to make much use of the light.

_Panicking will only make things worse._

He followed his other side's advice, taking deep breaths and forcing himself to remain still, even as another set of hands quickly patted him down. One man gave a derisive snort, and the cop felt someone pulling the gun off his hip. "What do we got here, dude?" said a voice Good Cop instantly recognized as Hip's.

Good Cop swallowed the lump in his throat. "It's an Octan third-generation stun blaster," he answered, keeping his tone as level as he was able. "Nine shots, and it paralyzes for two hours without any lasting damage."

Hip gave a low whistle. "A stun gun?"

"I always need something to protect me out there," he said truthfully, slowing down his breathing a little. "But I didn't think bringing a deadly weapon would leave a good first impression."

_Why the heck are you making this ambush so easy for them?_

The more cooperative he was, the less injury, confusion, and misunderstandings there would be. That was a plan of action Good Cop could get behind, even when he had no idea what was going on.

_I told you, it's a trap. Not that you'll believe me about it until it's too late to escape._

Someone else pulled off his walky-talky, and Good Cop fought the urge to squirm in protest. As cooperative as he wanted to be, he wasn't exactly comfortable with being unable to phone for help. "It's off," he spoke up, still trying to put on a show of offering useful information.

_Why bother?_

To prevent anyone from messing around with the radio, of course. They couldn't let anyone turn it on, not yet. Once that happened, the radio would emit a signal that could be detected and traced. They couldn't let things come to that unless things started going terribly wrong.

_This doesn't qualify for 'terribly wrong' yet?_

The people patting him down quickly finished their search. Whoever was pinning him down removed their hands, and through a joint effort, two different people hauled him off of the floor and set him on his feet. The one on his left was Zane, but on his right was a dark-haired lady he couldn't recognize. He couldn't help but notice that the two of them immediately took this opportunity to pin his arms to his sides.

He squinted against the yellowed lights. A small gathering stood before him, perhaps around a dozen people in all. The group of people spoke amongst each other in hushed whispers, but it was nothing he could make sense of. The bodies were packed close together, so close that he couldn't make out the people in the back. He recognized a few faces as some of the missing deportees, and he also picked out Jane in her tan, safari-esque outfit, but otherwise, these were all complete strangers.

Someone near the back of the group called out. The voice seemed alright enough – the French accent made the man sound nothing short of comical. The actual words, however, made Good Cop's thoughts stop cold. "Will someone please take his helmet off already?"

Instinctively, he gave a jerk against the people restraining his arms. "No!" he gasped. He couldn't let them see the secret hiding underneath his helmet, he just couldn't…!

After brief flashes of shock, then confusion, then fear, then confusion again, he finally managed to apply some rational thought to the situation. "This is a trap, isn't it?"

_Took you long to see the signs._

The entire room fell silent at Good Cop's accusation. The tension was thick enough to spread on toast.

Jane Goodall eventually stepped forward out of the crowd, her face scrunched into a quizzical expression. "Why would you assume something like that?" She seemed more upset and confused than anything else.

Good Cop decided to fill her in on his reasoning. "I can understand why you'd take my gun and radio. It's common sense. You don't know you can trust me, so to keep yourselves safe, you have to make sure I can't hurt you or call Bad Cop in to hurt you instead."

He gave a pause, judging their reactions. The thoughtful silence signaled him to continue. "But my helmet? I can't hurt you with a helmet. The only thing it's there for is to prevent you from hurting me. If you want to take it off, that means you plan on fighting me, and… Well, that means this is probably a trap."

Jane shifted her posture slightly, obviously uncomfortable. Perhaps she was also a little bit guilty? Regardless, Good Cop was certain this was not a trap of any sort, though his little accusation seemed to do a good enough job of keeping them away from his helmet.

_What?! Have you gone completely insane?_

He understood that his Bad side would have trouble seeing this as anything other than a crazy ambush scenario, but there was probably nothing to be afraid of.

_Like you said, they have no good reason to take off our helmet! What would they possibly have to gain?_

He wasn't quite sure. If they wanted to injure him, they would have done so already. They couldn't so much as suspect his Bad side's presence, seeing as the cops were the only double-sided human in the Lego universe, so the resistance clearly wasn't out to expose his true nature.

After these moments filled with tension and silent conversation, Jane eventually broke away from his gaze and turned back to face her comrades. "Do we really need to take his helmet off?"

A dissenting rumble sounded from the gathering of people. The French-accented voice from before spoke up again, cutting through the chatter. "I've been told it helps to remove such physical barriers. But, no, I would not think it necessary."

The man in question nimbly edged his way to the crowd, coming to a stop in the front. Good Cop didn't know what he expected from this man, but he was clearly from somewhere outside of Bricksburg. The man's triangular goatee and twirled mustache, like his accent, screamed 'comedy'. His manner of dress was sharp but verging on the edge of ridiculously old-fashioned – red bowtie, black tuxedo, red cummerbund, and a simple top-hat.

While the man's clothing was certainly outlandish, the long, thin staff in his hand was what drew the cop's attention. At the top was a lumpy bundle, a fabric sack meant to hide the staff-topper. Good Cop's curiosity only grew when the man reached up to pull the fabric away, revealing a jagged blue crystal. Good Cop leaned forward slightly, trying to confirm if its gentle radiance was only a trick of the indoor lighting.

It took him a few seconds to put all the pieces together. This was a stage magician holding a wizard's staff, and he was planning on using it to cast a spell of some sort.

_Magic doesn't exist. Not in Bricksburg, anyways._

Well, yes, magic was strictly prohibited within the city limits. However, Master Builders weren't particularly renowned for following the rules.

The magician spoke again, but a bit louder this time, making an announcement to the entire group. "I've been told that this works best with three people, including myself. As such, I will need two volunteers."

There were a few whispers among the group at large. Without warning, someone from the back barged forward, not caring how many people he had to shove out of the way. Good Cop instantly recognized this as Hip Slider. The white t-shirt, ripped jeans, and dark sunglasses were anticipated, but the golden medallion around his neck and the crooked baseball cap perched on his head were new.

Hip faced the magician with a mask of stony determination. "This might be my last chance to see Dan again. Count me in, dude."

Good Cop narrowed his eyes, now utterly confused. What kind of spell was that magician going to cast? One that needed volunteers, but also one that would apparently let them see Danny again?

Hip's head swiveled to a new target, the nearby Jane Goodall. "So, Jane, how about it? Wanna see your boyfriend one last time?"

Jane took a timid step backwards, her face shifting to a turmoil-filled grimace. "I honestly don't know. What you told me about Good Cop's story… I'm not sure if I want to see that."

Zane's voice spoke up immediately to Good Cop's left, making the officer in question jump a little in surprise. "If she is having doubts, perhaps it is best if I volunteer for the position instead."

The magician's mustache made an agitated twitch. "You'd best stay out of this. We do not even know if the spell will work on people like you."

Good Cop glanced sideways at Zane, noting that the man didn't display any sign of offense other than a short, restless change in posture. Either this kind of thing happened depressingly often or Zane was particularly skilled at hiding his emotions.

_Maybe both._

Hip drew a bit closer to Jane, dropping his voice to a softer tone. "Look, I know we won't like what we see in there, but we gotta do it anyways. Dan'd want us to know what happened to him."

Jane stared at him with wavering eyes, and then she finally let her arms drop to her sides. "Okay. Okay." She let out a long, heavy sigh. "I'll go in there, for his memory. So we can tell everyone he died a hero."

Good Cop felt uncomfortable at the prospect of breaking up such a poignant moment, but his curiosity was driving him mad. Now this spell involved 'going in' somewhere? What could it possibly involve? Why had they discussed taking off his helmet?

When the magician began to move the glowing crystal close to his face, Good Cop's words finally broke free from his throat. "Woah, um… What exactly are we doing? What are they volunteering for?"

"Oh, my apologies," the magician replied, bringing the staff away from the cop's face. He put a hand to his chest and gave a small bow. "Where are my manners? You may call me Presto Change-O, and I will be your spell-caster this evening."

Good Cop wanted to take a reluctant step backwards, but the men pinning his arms clearly wouldn't let that happen. "What kind of spell-casting?" he asked, making sure to broadcast every ounce of his worry.

"Oh, nothing too major." Presto gave a broad smile. "We are simply going to enter your mind to see if you are truly one of us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Every time I try to write a 3k-word chapter, it keeps spiraling out to nearly double the original length. Not that this is a bad thing, of course. It allows me some extra time to flesh out my OC's and built a bit more of the Lego universe, pun completely intended. It makes it difficult to finish the chapter in a timely manner, though._
> 
> _In other news, I now have an official beta! **ShinyShiny9** has been a big help in tweaking this chapter and giving me suggestions, for which I am grateful. Give her a big round of thanks, and expect to see her (positive) influence more in the future._


End file.
